


Never Too Late

by kasviel



Category: Condemned (Video Games)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:34:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 20
Words: 53,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24274396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kasviel/pseuds/kasviel
Summary: This is an Alternate Universe version of the videogame "Condemned 2: Bloodshot", which is the sequel to "Condemned: Criminal Origins". After sparing the life of infamous Serial Killer X, Ethan Thomas finds himself drunk, alone, and tormented by demons--of his own making, or something more? As his life spirals out of control, Ethan finds himself disturbingly drawn to Leland Vanhorn, SKX himself. Meanwhile, Leland is becoming more and more unhinged, as his sordid past returns to haunt him.Be advised: this is a very violent story, most likely my darkest story. There is violence beyond my usual spanking/discipline (though of course there is that), rape, and murder. I am also aware the way the chapters are broken up sometimes can be a little awkward. Apologies, it was written for one of my old blogs or something with space limits, I've forgotten. But here it is in its entirety, unlike the way I split it into two parts on former sites. This is the full, complete version.
Relationships: ethan thomas/leland vanhorn
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

_It's been almost a year since the psychopath known as 'Serial Killer X' terrorized the terrorists of the city . . . and me.  
  
My so-called 'friend', Malcolm Vanhorn, told me that in time, I would see the 'validity' of my choice to let him live. That I would be grateful for not giving in to my hatred and killing the bastard on the spot. When I knocked him unconscious, hitting him until my fists bled, a killer, a murderer, I hoped he wouldn't wake up. But of course he did. And no matter what Vanhorn said, it would have been better for everyone if he hadn't.  
  
Vanhorn said it was the right choice. So why the hell does it feel so wrong?_  
  
**City Asylum  
XX/XX/XX  
9:00 AM**  
  
SCU Agent Ethan Thomas looked like a man who had seen hell. Over the past year, his black hair had grown out into a shaggy cut, beard unkempt and scruffy, and his eyes were swollen and bloodshot. He was also stronger, having lost his agent's restraint and engaged in violent encounters on and off duty. It was morning, but he kept rubbing his eyes, hands clenching and un-clenching with nervous energy that came from not having his usual drink. He lumbered around the small, metal-walled room, the chair across from him empty.  
  
_The man I'm waiting for is Leland Vanhorn, otherwise known as Serial Killer X. On his uncle's suggestion, we brought him to the authorities for restraint and treatment. He's insane, after all. Or so they keep telling me._  
  
The door to the room squeaked open, and two orderlies escorted in a man heavily strapped into a strait jacket and ankle cuffs. Despite his imprisonment, his eyes were clear, and he was calm. He held himself with a smug pride, light brown hair cut neatly, face now shaved clean. A faint smirk crossed his lips upon seeing Ethan waiting for him.  
  
_I don't think he's insane. He knows exactly what he's doing, he always did. He's clever and brutal, methodically evil. But hey, try telling the wusses down at the court that. They either believed every fucking word the defense team spit through their teeth, or they were just counting the donation money pouring in from Leland's uncle. Either way, here he is, a charity case. Poor crazy Leland, just like Vanhorn wanted everyone to think of his precious nephew._  
  
"And to what do I owe the pleasure, Agent Thomas?" Leland asked in his rather educated, calm manner. The traces of being raised by his intelligent, stoic uncle showed, dangerously belying the monstrous soul he kept inside.  
  
The orderlies fastened the strait jacket to the table, and then left the two. A quiet fell over the room, and the ghastly white fluorescent light seemed duller than a moment ago. The clock on the wall ticked the seconds by idly.  
  
Ethan did not sit, standing over the table and glaring down at the man. Beneath the hatred there was a glimmer of terror in his eyes, which wandered uncontrollably down to his four-fingered hand. Leland caught the glance, and his own eyes sparked with sadistic satisfaction. One year ago, he had severed Thomas' finger for no reason other than being furious at his plans being meddled with.  
  
"Our anniversary, perhaps?" Leland began to torment him. "I hope you brought flowers."  
  
Thomas grabbed the man by the neck with his good hand. "I had a little trouble grabbing the bouquet, you son-of-a-bitch."  
  
Leland laughed an empty laugh. "You have changed, Agent Thomas. Alcoholism does not agree with you."  
  
Thomas released him, frowning deeply. _How the fuck does he know about that?_  
  
"I, on the other hand, have done exceptionally well," Leland informed him. "I get fan mail by the sacks, and did you know they want to write a book about me?"  
  
_I wish those were delusions of grandeur, but they're not. The experts love him because he's a heaven-sent case study with all the disorders and complexes they could ever dream of and then some. The media loves him for his Manson-esque shock value and his the ratings he draws in. The people, well, people love abnormality, don't they? Makes them feel all warm and normal by comparison, and gives the freaks something new to blindly follow. How they've glorified this fucking pig, saying he's some kind of noble vigilante, or poignant tragedy.  
  
Only I know the truth, only I seem to be able to comprehend it: he's a goddamn murderer. That's it._  
  
"Don't be so proud," Thomas told him. "Look at this damn city and consider the source."  
  
"Things have gotten worse, haven't they? I knew they would, without me." Leland paused, considering something, then added, "Although, I must say I expected more from _you_ , Mr. Thomas."  
  
Thomas looked at him, pacing the room anxiously. Time seemed strange, and the room darkened further. In the weird moment, the feeling overcame Ethan that they were not alone. _No,_ he thought, _I don't need this now. Not now._  
  
"You had talent. You had real talent, Mr. Thomas," Leland said earnestly. "But if I've been keeping track correctly, I have the distinct pleasure of being your very _last_ conquest?"  
  
Thomas tightened his fist, standing as far away from the man as possible. His rage was bubbling inside him, clouding his vision some, and he knew if he said one word, he would end up murdering the man. Something inside him seemed to be trying to tell him something, as he struggled to retain control of himself.  
  
"That's why you're here, isn't it?" Leland said knowingly. "You didn't come out of your own free will; you're too cowardly to face me here, with everyone watching. You're afraid of yourself, aren't you?" Without an answer, Leland barked commandingly, "AREN'T YOU?"  
  
Thomas turned around, slamming both fists on the table. "Damn it! Enough games! If you know why I'm here, why don't you just cooperate?"  
  
"Not until you ask," Leland said with an evil smile, leaning his face up at Ethan hatefully. "Go ahead, do what they told you to do. Ask for my help."  
  
Thomas took him by the neck again, and the man did not even flinch. " **Tell me** what you know about the Siren."  
  
"Ahh, the Siren," Leland remarked with a smile. "Yes, I've been following the stories. It's very unusual to have a female serial killer with such skill and barbaric ruthlessness. Very unbecoming, wouldn't you agree, Mr. Thomas?"  
  
Ethan shook him. "Just tell me."  
  
"I'll tell you, I would have taken care of her by now, alone, without the waste of so many tax dollars and police lives," Leland said disdainfully. "Although, I would have a problem using her own method against her."  
  
Thomas released him and finally sat down across from him. Unbeknownst to him, they had been working together for years prior to ever meeting face-to-face; Leland had been following Ethan's cases as he solved them, then would take it upon himself to brutally execute the perpetrators. Much to Ethan's chagrin, they had been quite efficient in their drastically different ways.  
  
"She kills with her voice, hence her nickname 'Siren'," Ethan reviewed, tossing a case file onto the table. He realized that Leland could not open it, being bound in the strait jacket, and spread the papers out between them. "We believe she must be using some sort of device that manipulates sound waves. The problem is, no one knows the range of this object, how to counter-act it, nothing. Every time we have a lead on her whereabouts, we find the officers sent in with their brains practically exploded."  
  
Leland inhaled sharply, shutting his eyes for the briefest moment. Ethan could see his arms squirming in the jacket, as if trying to worm his way out. Suddenly, he started laughing.  
  
"What the hell's so funny, asshole?"  
  
" _You_ come to _me_ for this? Ah ha ha ha! Such irony," Leland said, shaking his head. "And that they sent you . . . I wonder . . . "  
  
"What is this? You're going to play crazy for me now?" Thomas asked impatiently. He reached over the table and grabbed the man by his brown hair. "You're not crazy."  
  
Leland scowled, trying to struggle out of his grip. "Get your hands off me," he sneered. "I'm **not** crazy."  
  
"Then mind filling me in? What are you talking about?"  
  
"Why don't you ask my dear uncle about it?" Leland said nastily. "Where _is_ he these days, anyway?"  
  
Ethan let him go, though his hand shook slightly when he did. The urge in the back of his mind became clearer now: _Do it._  
  
"What--" Ethan paused, rubbing his forehead between his eyes. "What do you mean? What does Vanhorn have to do with anything?"  
  
"I can't believe how far he'd take it," Leland said. "Why the hell is he still running?" He smirked at Ethan. "And he's forcing you to run with him, isn't he? How unfortunate for you. Tell me, Mr. Thomas, do you enjoy being strung along like a puppet?"  
  
When Ethan looked up, he saw a third figure standing behind Leland. He was wearing Ethan's clothes, had his build and hair, but his face was distorted into a clownish mask. _'Look at him,'_ he said, motioning down at the unsuspecting Serial Killer X. _'He is the one left out, locked up here in the asylum, and yet he treats you like the idiotic, incapacitated one.'_  
  
"All you did was choose my uncle over me, that's all," Leland went on. "At least I let you do your job in peace. Hell, I even encouraged you."  
  
"You set me up!" Ethan reminded him loudly. "You shot two police with my gun, left me to go to prison for it!"  
  
"An unfortunate misunderstanding-- I couldn't compromise my purpose, after all," Leland said. "But my uncle? He led you to me, knowing all his precious nephew was capable of, and let you fend for yourself. All he wanted was a tool to restrain me, nothing more."  
  
The alternate Ethan behind Leland paced around the table. _'So vulnerable. He knows it, whether he admits it or not. But he can't help goading you anymore. Maybe he never could. Have you ever stopped to wonder why?'_  
  
"Now I'm safe, just like he wanted, and where is he? Gone, no doubt," Leland said. "And where does that leave you?"  
  
"I knew this was a bad idea," Ethan said. He went to press the button on the wall that summoned the orderlies. "You don't know shit."  
  
Leland was oddly silent. Ethan looked back at him, and their eyes met. The hallucination of the masked man had gone, leaving them alone again.  
  
"The Siren doesn't use a machine," Leland said suddenly. "It is her voice."  
  
Ethan lowered his hand from the button. "What makes you so sure?"  
  
"I'm sure," Leland said vaguely. "She's been murdering night club singers in the slums, right after their gigs. She's almost killed every woman who has performed at _The Drain_ , so there's a good chance she'll be finishing the job."  
  
Ethan grabbed the folder and looked through the data. _What do you know? The son-of-a-bitch is right._  
  
"I don't recommend bringing back-up, unless you'd like to see more partners end up killed in the line of duty," Leland said dryly. "Her voice can't be avoided, the range is about . . . I'd say ten to fifteen feet, depending."  
  
"How do you--"  
  
"Stop being so antagonistic, Mr. Thomas," Leland said impatiently. "Find Siren. Maybe she'll give you the answers my uncle is withholding."  
  
"He isn't the only one."  
  
Leland shrugged, shifting on the metal chair uncomfortably. "It isn't my place," he said bitterly. "It has nothing to do with me."  
  
_He sounds dejected, almost sullen,_ Ethan noticed. He crossed his arms. "Then why are you throwing cryptic hints around? Either say what you're thinking or don't."  
  
"I'm not helping you, you know," Leland said. "I just want to keep you alive long enough so that I'm the one who murders you, and no one else."  
  
"What a fucking honor." Ethan hit the button on the wall. "I've had enough of this crap."  
  
The orderlies came in and unhooked the jacket from the table, jostling Leland to his feet roughly.  
  
"Tell my uncle--"  
  
Ethan glanced at him with interest, but Leland only shook his head. The doors were unlocked and he was pulled out of the room. Ethan sighed, running a hand through his raven-black hair. _I need a drink._  
  



	2. Chapter 2

As luck would have it, Ethan was called just outside the hospital. Rosa, a longtime friend that had helped him out when everyone believed he was a murderer, came on the phone. She was a pretty woman, but most importantly, the only one Ethan had ever allowed himself to trust with his life.  
  
"Ethan, we need you back at the department," Rosa informed him. "A couple of agents are at the hospital waiting for you."  
  
Ethan looked around. "Here? You sure?"  
  
"Yes, agents LeRue and Dorland."  
  
"They must be inside. I'll be--"  
  
"Hey. Thomas."  
  
Ethan turned around and found himself facing a man with an ugly scowl on his hard-edged face. "So, you're Ethan Thomas," the man said, a biting scorn in his tone. "Real big man, aren't you? Pushing around a guy in a strait jacket."  
  
"Hey, first of all, that wasn't a 'guy' in there, he's a serial killer," Ethan argued defensively. "Secondly, it's none of your goddamn business!"  
  
The man gave him a confrontational push. "You're the bureau's business, and that makes you our business. You think I like coming down here to keep you on your fucking leash?"  
  
Ethan advanced on him."What did you say?"  
  
"Hey, hey, enough," the second agent interrupted, coming between them. He was a strong, self-confident man that needed no belligerence to maintain his authority. "I didn't come out here for any kind of bullshit, from either of you."  
  
"You came out for the same reason I did, LeRue," the agent told his partner, "so why don't _you_ cut the crap?"  
  
LeRue gave him a look, but ignored the comment. "Ethan Thomas, I'm Agent Pierce LeRue," he said, shaking Ethan's hand. "This is Agent Dorland, the cheerful one."  
  
Dorland had backed off, crossing his arms, still giving Ethan a cold stare. Likewise, Ethan watched him with wary suspicion.  
  
"So, what is this?" Ethan asked LeRue. "I'm being followed now?"  
  
"We were in the area and just thought you could use a ride back with us, that's all," LeRue assured him.  
  
"Before you get lost in a bar and a fight again," muttered Dorland.  
  
"I don't need a ride," Ethan said. "I can handle myself."  
  
"Look, man, this area's gotten pretty bad," LeRue said. "All kinds of freaks around, you know what I mean? And with the blackouts, you never know when shit's going to start up again."  
  
A group of stragglers passed by, one of the members very pale and wearing a black hoodie. He glanced at Ethan, pale eyes cold as ice. Ethan felt like he'd seen him before, and he didn't like him. Probably some tweaker from the bar.  
  
"Thomas?"  
  
Ethan turned back to LeRue, then glanced at Dorland. "All right, fine," he gave in. "Let's get the hell out of here."  
  
Dorland gave a satisfied grunt. Ethan bumped his shoulder on his way to the car. Dorland took the wheel, naturally, and LeRue sat beside him. Ethan slumped in the backseat, trying to rub his pounding headache out from the temples.

  
"The director also figured it would be a good chance to get us a meet and greet," LeRue made conversation as they headed out to the SCU bureau. "We'll be working the Siren case with you."  
  
Leland's words vaguely floated through Ethan's mind: _'I don't recommend bringing back-up, unless you'd like to see more partners end up killed in the line of duty.'_  
  
Still, it wouldn't be possible to refuse them. Ethan was already in enough trouble for his 'lone wolf' routine. Ethan looked out the car window, at the overcast sky. The sun never seemed to shine anymore.  
  
"You get any info from SKX?"  
  
"His name is Leland Vanhorn," Dorland interjected. "Don't give that scum any more importance than the other psychos. He's just another crazy person."  
  
"He's not any kind of person," Ethan said flatly. "He's a serial killer, he doesn't deserve to be named any more than that."  
  
"Anyway," LeRue cut their discussion short, "what did he say?"  
  
Ethan explained what Leland had said about Siren's patterns and voice. Dorland was silent, but his brow was deeply furrowed. He seemed more upset than before, if possible.  
  
"She can't be killing with her voice," LeRue said. "SK-- Leland, he's just got that criminal paranoia and superstition. It's not unusual for a nut like him to believe that shit."  
  
"Look, for the record," Ethan said, "I don't like this. We don't need his help, and I don't like how he's able to follow these cases from the hospital. Aren't they supposed to isolate him from stimulus?"  
  
"Hey, I'm no shrink, don't ask me," grumbled Dorland. "As for needing his help, it's not my fault no one's doing their job and the director thinks we need tips from a lunatic."  
  
Ethan made a mental note to speak with Leland's doctor, and as he did, he realized he'd never even met the man. Once Leland was committed, he had seen him only one time before now, and it hadn't gone over very well.  
  
"I don't like it, either," LeRue said. "With these riots and blackouts, S-- Leland Vanhorn, could escape at any given time. If he's been following the serial killings, he could be ready to start picking off the culprits at will."  
  
"And that would be such a loss," Dorland said cynically.  
  
"Maybe not, but the police and SCU agents that would get in his way _would_ be a loss," LeRue said. "Has everyone forgotten he killed two cops, framed Thomas here for it, and would do the entire thing over again in a heartbeat?"  
  
"I'm not encouraging him, all right? I was just saying--"  
  
The two got into a heavy discussion, and Thomas used the opportunity to rest his eyes beneath a brawny arm. The darkness consumed him, and the car felt still even though they were still moving.  
  
Then, suddenly, he was in the mental hospital again. Everything was blurred as he moved blindly through the empty halls, sterile smell filling his nose. The voice of the masked presence was a low growl in his mind, but he could make out the words clearly.  
  
 _'Are you satisfied, Ethan? Here we are, where the man who ruined your life is safe and sound. They'll protect him now, you know. You had your chance. It's gone now. Vanhorn won't ever let you touch his nephew.'_  
  
Ethan's vision cleared. He moved with a sense of purpose, and saw Vanhorn outside a room. The elderly man smiled a weary smile at him. _'Thank you, Ethan.'_  
  
 _I remember this day,_ Ethan thought. _This was when we committed Leland Vanhorn._  
  
Vanhorn put a hand on his shoulder. _'It's over. You know that, right?'_  
  
The scenario was disrupted, like a TV screen getting interference, and the light blurred everything once again. The voice of his other self echoed around the stark hall, _'Oh, you know, all right. You know he's lying. It'll never be over. Not for you.'_  
  
Ethan was in Leland's room now, looking down at him. The masked man came around beside him, also staring down at the killer. Leland was bound, every inch of him, with buckles and straps. He was not in a strait jacket, as one arm and leg were in traction, but there was no way he could escape the bed. He was asleep, face looking almost peaceful, if bruised severely from his final confrontation with Ethan. His midsection was bandaged, ribs broken.  
  
' _It's not enough, is it?'_ asked the masked man. _'You know what he really deserves.'_  
  
Ethan leaned over him like an animal stalking his prey. Leland shifted, sensing something, and opened his eyes. Worry flickered vaguely over his face; he was not a stupid man, and he could feel his vulnerability as much as Ethan could. He didn't even speak.  
  
 _'One last chance, Ethan,'_ the masked man whispered into Ethan's ear. _'Do it.'_  
  
Leland frowned deeply. _'The hell are you--'_  
  
Ethan grabbed him by the neck, fingers crushing the bulge of his Adam's Apple. Leland struggled feebly. Ethan wrapped his other hand around his throat, feeling a pulse beat wildly beneath his palm. Leland began to choke, trying to protest and curse him.  
  
 _'That's right, end him. End him the same way he ended the others.'_  
  
Ethan frowned. The same way?  
  
 _'Do you not also walk the path of righteousness?'_  
  
Ethan stared into Leland's eyes, saw the fear. Pleasure washed over him as he felt his prey writhe helplessly, but at the same time, a tiny corner of his mind was screaming at him to stop.  
  
 _'But let's not fool ourselves,'_ the masked man said. _'It isn't just righteousness driving you. It feels good, doesn't it?It's gratifying to have him at your mercy. For so long, he played with you, strung you along like_ _ **his**_ _puppet. Now how does he like it?  
  
'You have to admit, Ethan, being the abuser is much more __**fun**_ _than being the victim. Isn't it?'_  
  
Ethan drew a breath, but he could not stop. Leland sputtered incoherently, his struggle becoming feeble. His hands fell limp and his skin took on a bluish tinge. His eyes were larger, round, the veins red and the whites going grey.  
  
 _'Isn't it?'_  
  
"No!"  
  
The voice cried out in the car, causing both agents to look back.  
  
"Are you all right?" LeRue asked."Hey, Thomas! Were you sleeping?"  
  
Ethan slowly came back to reality, looking wildly around the car. He exhaled, running his hands through his hair. "Yeah," he said sheepishly. "Guess I was."  
  
"Lazy drunkard," remarked Dorland.  
  
"Hey!" Ethan punched the back of Dorland's seat. "Shut up. I'm not drunk, okay?"  
  
"Whatever."  
  
LeRue shut off the car. "Anyway, let's go."  
  
They got out of the car. Ethan stretched on his way to the bureau headquarters, smelling rain in the air. The sticky summer heat was intense despite the lack of sunshine, making everything look murky and dirtier than it even was.  
  
"Ethan, hey," Rosa greeted him inside. She almost touched his arm but held back at the last moment. "Farrell is waiting for you. Come on."  
  
Dorland and LeRue stayed behind. Ethan was grateful for a chance to speak with her alone.  
  
"Serial Killer X is somehow keeping track of my cases even now," he told her. "Why the hell does he have access to the news? He's in a hospital for the criminally insane!"  
  
"That is strange," Rosa agreed. "So, he knew about the Siren?"  
  
"Yeah, I'll go over the new information with you before we head out," Ethan replied. "Listen, do you know who Leland's doctors are? Psychiatrist, therapist . . . "  
  
"Yes, I do," Rosa said. She took out her tablet, clicking through some files with her finger. "Let's see. Here." She pointed out two pictures on the screen. "Renowned psychiatrist Dr. Arthur Dyer actually relocated to the city to handle his case, citing Leland's 'complex and intelligent mind' as the reason for his intrigue in the case. Leland's uncle, Vanhorn, is also paying a small fortune to have psychologist and therapist August Garrison treat him on a day-to-day basis."  
  
"Nothing but the best for his poor nephew," scowled Ethan. He leaned closer to look at the pictures, and he and Rosa's arms brushed against one another. They looked at each other for a brief moment, then looked away hurriedly. Ethan cleared his throat, then went on, "One of these guys must be allowing him unauthorized liberties. I'm going to have to have a word with them both."  
  
"Good idea." Rosa gave him a pointed look, adding, "So long as it's _just_ a word."  
  
Ethan rubbed the back of his neck, not making any promises.  
  
"What about security?" he asked. "LeRue made a point that worried me. He said with the blackouts and riots, SKX could possibly escape. That true?"  
  
"The hospital has a back-up generator to handle power failures, Ethan, so it would be highly unlikely," Rosa said. "However, I think we both know that highly unlikely occurrences have been known to happen, especially recently."  
  
They were outside Farrell's office, and looked at one another.  
  
"There are a lot of fools out there that would set him free if they had the chance," Rosa said. "All we can do is tighten security around the hospital . . . and pray a riot doesn't break out there."  
  
"You'd better pray for me too, then, Rosa."  
  
She smiled a little, and they entered Farell's office together.  
  
Farrell was an older man, stern in face and demeanor. He didn't bother looking up from his files upon their entrance. "So, was Leland Vanhorn able to offer any assistance?"  
  
"He's been following the case from the hospital, and he shed some light on Siren's pattern," Ethan said slowly. "We have a likely target, and could begin a stake-out as early as this evening."  
  
"Good, good." Farrell nodded. He set the papers down and looked up at Ethan evenly. "And what length did you go to, exactly, to glean this information from Vanhorn?"  
  
Ethan shifted on his feet, temper starting to rise. "Honestly, I shook him around a little," he admitted remorselessly. "He wasn't injured."  
  
"Hmm, I hope you're right. The last thing we need is another complaint of brutality, especially against a mental patient."  
  
Ethan shut his eyes, trying to contain his building rage. Rosa briefly touched his hand.  
  
"With all due respect, sir, I don't see why this was necessary," Ethan said. "We don't need a serial killer's help."  
  
"Obviously we did, if the entire department failed to recognize the patterns Vanhorn did."  
  
"Sir, Leland Vanhorn _is_ an intelligent man," Rosa spoke up, "but using him in this manner only encourages him, feeds his ego. Don't you find it a little strange he's been following Agent Thomas' cases, especially from an asylum?"  
  
" **I** allowed the information to go to Leland," Farrell said. He got to his feet. "The bureau has used its prisoners for information before. I agree it is a desperate measure to seek, but these are desperate times. I doubt either of you could deny that?"  
  
"You have your opinion, I have mine, but there's still something I don't get," Ethan said. "Why send me? Leland Vanhorn almost destroyed my life, he has a sick fascination with tormenting me, even more so since I beat him. The last time I saw him in the hospital, a year ago, I almost strangled him."  
  
"I had my reasons."  
  
Ethan lifted his face, eyes glinting angrily. _I get it now. It was a test. He was testing me, seeing if I could handle confronting SKX. But why?_  
  
"Well, I don't give a shit about your reasons!" Ethan snapped. "I fought like hell to get that bastard out of my life, and I'm not going to let you or anyone else throw him back into it!"  
  
"Ethan," Rosa said pleadingly, "it's okay."  
  
"No, it's not okay!" Ethan retorted. He pointed at Farrell. "You do whatever you want with your new little toy, I don't fucking care! But you leave me **out** of it!"  
  
"I will do what I see fit, Mr. Thomas," Farrell said loudly, advancing on him. "And _you_ will do as you are told. Understand?"  
  
"Yeah. Yeah, I understand." Ethan grabbed the man by the front of his shirt.  
  
"Ethan, no!" Rosa exclaimed.  
  
"Understand this: I don't care if you fire me, lock me up. I am **not** going to have anything to do with that murderer." Ethan shook him. "And I'm **not** going to clean up whatever mess you make by getting involved with him, either."  
  
Farrell's eyes narrowed. "I see."  
  
Ethan released him and stormed out. Rosa looked after him but did not follow. He figured she would stay behind making excuses for him, and wished she wouldn't cast suspicion on herself for his sake. She deserved better than to be mixed up in the dangerous business that seemed to follow him.  
  
Ethan punched a wall on his way through the building, head swimming. _I felt like tearing that fucking Farrell apart in there. I shouldn't have overreacted, but I couldn't help it. One more minute, and I would have put my fist through his smug face. Hell is wrong with me?  
  
. . . I just need a damn drink already. Almost eleven, and still no alcohol; it's some kind of record for me._  
  
On the way out, he noticed Dorland talking to someone in the hall. The two locked eyes menacingly before Ethan exited. _Hell is his problem? Asshole._  
  



	3. Chapter 3

Ethan got home with one thing on his mind, but was quickly distracted. The door was unlocked and he heard someone inside. He drew his gun, bursting in. An older man turned in alarm, holding his hands up in defense. "Ethan, Ethan, relax! It's me."  
  
Leland's uncle had finally returned. Ethan lowered his gun, kicking the door shut behind himself. "Easy way to get yourself killed, Vanhorn," he muttered. He made his way over to the table full of bottles and glasses, poured himself a drink. "Especially when you disappear for months and magically reappear without notice."  
  
"I told you, I had business."  
  
"Oh yeah?" Ethan asked, turning to him. "After all your ranting about saving your precious nephew, I let the son-of-a-bitch live, and you practically forget he's alive?"  
  
"You're not arguing for Leland's sake?"  
  
"No, I could care less about that fool," Ethan said. "But I let him live because of you. I . . . " He took a long drink from the glass, body easing. "I know what it's like to be alone, okay? And you said he was the only thing you had left."  
  
Vanhorn nodded. "I meant it, and I am immensely grateful to you. I know how hard it must have been to stop yourself."  
  
"Yeah, it _was_ hard," Ethan affirmed. "You have no fucking clue." He paced away from Vanhorn, around the room. "I was scared, all right? I'll admit it. I live every day of my worthless life with your nephew's shadow behind me. I know you said it was over, but that's a lie. You know it'll never be over for me. You just don't care."  
  
"That isn't true."  
  
"Isn't it?" Ethan asked angrily. "I snapped when I was looking at him that day in the hospital. I lost control. It's never happened to me before then. I just . . . couldn't stand seeing him alive, because I knew. I knew what would happen, and it did. The bones mended, the bruises healed. You should _see_ him, the bastard looks the picture of health."  
  
Vanhorn tried to hide his satisfaction but couldn't. Ethan grew further enraged.  
  
"I hadn't seen him before today, but he hasn't changed," he said. "All the money you're wasting on those doctors, all the time you spent with him before taking off, none of it matters. Nothing's going to change the fact that your nephew is a ruthless killer."  
  
Vanhorn exhaled, bowing his head. "That has been evident for . . . some time. I never had unrealistic expectations, Ethan. I only wanted Leland to be controlled."  
  
"So, it's true. Ha. What do you know?" Ethan said bitterly, drinking again. "Leland was right."  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"The bureau sent me down there. We actually talked," Ethan said somewhat sarcastically. "He was asking for you, you know."  
  
"He was?"  
  
Ethan nodded. "Yeah, he had a lot to say about you. Like how you used me as a tool to restrain him. How you've strung me along like a puppet, leaving me to fend for myself. He said you're forcing me to run from something you've been trying to avoid, told me to ask you about some ironic truth."  
  
Vanhorn sighed, sitting down in a chair. "Leland," he murmured, sounding like he was fed up with an unmanageable child.  
  
"I don't hear you denying it, so why don't you give me the answers he was mocking me for not knowing?" Ethan suggested.  
  
"Ethan, I can't do it," Vanhorn told him earnestly. "There's too much danger. I simply can't."  
  
Ethan sat on the coffee table across from him, swigging down whiskey directly from the bottle. "You owe me. Come on, you can't keep me in the dark like this. Don't you even respect me a little bit, after all I've done for you? After all I've done for Leland?"  
  
"I don't know what to say, Ethan," Vanhorn said, at a loss. "I understand your frustration, but I've withheld the truth for your own protection. There are answers you don't want."  
  
"Let _me_ decide what I want!" Ethan yelled, standing. "I never thought I'd say I have anything in common with your nephew, but I do, and it stinks. We're not your puppets! You can't just manipulate everything into being 'okay'! Leland won't be safe because you want him to be! I won't be able to run from the danger just because you push me away from it! And I'm not going to stay in the dark because you think it's for the best!"  
  
"I _understand_ that," Vanhorn said in exasperation. He stood slowly, older and weaker than he had been just a year ago; the suffering was etched deeply into his face. "Why are you taking it as disrespect? I am only trying to do the best I can."  
  
"You're trying to control me," Ethan told him. "I thought I could trust you. One year ago to this date, I honestly thought I could trust you, and I did. I let you talk me into the biggest mistake of my life."  
  
"Don't say that."  
  
"It's true," Ethan said. "There isn't a day that goes by that I don't regret not blowing his head off that night, and I'll have to live with that regret for the rest of my life. And it isn't just me. He escapes, any number of people could end up paying for that same mistake. I know _you_ wouldn't care, but I don't even know how I'd be able to deal with that."  
  
"I _do_ care," Vanhorn said. "But I love Leland almost like a son . . . It is bias, and I apologize for manipulating you for his sake, but I couldn't let him die. That said, I never, **never** intended to let you get killed. You can't die, either."  
  
"Then give me a break here," Ethan pleaded. "Just answer one question, okay? Just one."  
  
Vanhorn looked at him wearily. "What question?"  
  
There were many questions that ran through Ethan's mind, but one suddenly jumped in more clearly than the rest. He didn't know why, but he found himself asking, "Why did Leland use me?"  
  
"To follow, you mean? Well, you were very skilled at catching serial killers, practically led him straight to them."  
  
"Yeah, he always used that same line about talent, but I think it's BS," Ethan said. "If I had just been a tool, he wouldn't have cared one way or another about me. But he's always hated me. There's something else in his eyes, too, but I can't put my finger on what it is. It's personal, that was never more obvious than today. Why?"  
  
"Personal? Well, I suppose it is." Vanhorn went to the window, peeked out through the curtains. "I told you once that I knew your parents, and that I tried to stay close after they died, didn't I?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Well, Leland knew _of_ you since childhood because of my keeping watch from a distance," Vanhorn explained. "I tried to keep the information from him, but he always was very cunning and sneaky."  
  
Ethan crossed his arms, more perplexed than before.  
  
"Essentially, as I kept track of you, so did Leland," Vanhorn said. "That's why he knew you. When you started hunting serial killers, he must have seen it as a perfect opportunity."  
  
"Yeah, he kind of said as much. We both 'walk the path of righteousness', and all that crap."  
  
"Exactly."  
  
"It still doesn't add up," Ethan insisted. "We were both kids that didn't even know each other in person. Why _care_ if you were keeping track of me?"  
  
"It had nothing to do with me. I was simply the one he kept track through."'  
  
"But why the obsession?"  
  
"In my paranoia and fear, I admit that I isolated Leland, raised him in solitude," Vanhorn explained. "We lived far out from the city, away from any other people. I educated him personally. He was not allowed to go out without me. I didn't think it would damage him so severely, but such things have a way of taking their toll on the mind. And he was so young, and already so influenced . . . "  
  
"Influenced by what?"  
  
"Many things," Vanhorn said vaguely, looking away. "Anyway, he was a lonely child. His obsession with you consumed him. The reason you can't make out the emotions in his eyes when he looks at you is that they are muddled. I doubt even he quite understands it fully. So, he latches onto the hatred, because hatred is familiar to him, cathartic."  
  
"Great. Just fucking great." Ethan shifted on his feet. "When did he start the murders?"  
  
"It isn't the sort of thing he would tell me," Vanhorn said cautiously, "so it would be hard to say . . . "  
  
"Relatively, I mean," Ethan said. "You would know when he strayed away from you, went underground. When was it?"  
  
"It was as you probably figured," Vanhorn replied, "right after you joined the bureau."  
  
Ethan nodded. "Yeah, that adds up. Did you know? Were you aware of what Leland was capable of?"  
  
Vanhorn drew a breath, the answer written in the guilt in his eyes.  
  
"You did," Ethan surmised. "You knew, and you just left him to do whatever he wanted."  
  
"I didn't want him locked up and vulnerable; it unnerves me even now," Vanhorn said. "Besides, you see what's happening, you feel it. I didn't want to punish him for his state of mind."  
  
"He isn't some fragile child, Vanhorn!" Ethan pointed out. "He knows exactly what he's doing, and he _enjoys_ it! He deserves the blame, all of it. It wasn't like he couldn't help himself. He isn't the victim."  
  
An odd, unreadable look passed through Vanhorn's eyes. "I have watched both of you practically since your births," he said softly. "There was a time when I considered raising you together, as brothers."  
  
"Ha! That would have worked out well," Ethan said cynically.  
  
"I care about you both, and I am only trying to protect you," Vanhorn said. "That may come off as patronizing, I know, but it has been my sole purpose for the last several decades."  
  
"Well, you do what you have to do, then," Ethan said. "Just don't try to stop me from doing what I need to."  
  
Vanhorn nodded. Ethan rubbed his eyes, taking another swig from the bottle, and sat down on the old, decrepit sofa. "You mind?" he asked, glancing at the door. "I'd like to get some rest."  
  
"Of course." Vanhorn went to the door, paused for a moment, and then looked back at him. "Take care of yourself, Ethan."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Vanhorn left. Ethan sighed, lying across the couch and staring at the ceiling. He felt restless, angry and unnerved. He should have felt peace in the solitude, but he didn't feel alone. There was a tense feeling hanging over the room.  
  
Ethan sat up, looking around. He turned on the TV, but the reception was out. He fiddled with the antenna but could get no signal. He returned to the couch, the day dragging on painfully slowly. Eventually, he fell asleep.  
  
Sometime past noon, he woke up again. Everything was dark. He went to turn on the lights but they didn't work. _Oh, shit. A blackout?_  
  
Ethan sighed, getting his equipment. He clipped his flashlight to his holster and switched it on. The building was quiet, but there was commotion outside in the city. It would be wise to stay locked inside his apartment, or call for police or SCU help, but Ethan had a tendency to go it alone these days.  
  
The darkness had a way of swallowing you whole, making you feel invisible and naked at the same time. His footsteps were heavy on the dingy, ugly threadbare carpet. His light barely cut through the clinging blackness. He made his way down a few floors by the stairs, going down in silent care. He could hear scuffling beneath him. Thugs, junkies, taking advantage of the normal citizens' helplessness.  
  
Ethan caught a couple of guys trying to break into an apartment where he knew a young single mother lived with her two children. He attacked the men with sudden, ruthless force. He had spent the past year fighting, training his body when he wasn't drinking, and didn't need his gun to kill.  
  
And kill he did. He didn't want to admit it, but the line between himself and Leland had become thinner over the years.  
  
It was a grueling climb down the stairwell, through the apartment halls. The violence levels in the troubled souls of the city were out of control lately, and Ethan's had spiked to meet them.  
  
Suddenly, Ethan stepped in something squishy. He looked down and found himself standing in something like tar. He swore under his breath, following the trail with his eyes. It led to the stairwell. Though he was on the first floor, he went back to the stairs.  
  
 _I really shouldn't be doing this._  
  
Nonetheless, he went down the stairs to the basements. The black substance got thicker the further he went, covering the entirety of the floors, walls. There were bodies among the mess, some mutilated, others with gaping jaws, all smothered in the tar-like stuff.  
  
Something swung out at Ethan, and he blocked with his arms in alarm. A twisted, odd human was attacking him, covered in tar. Ethan fought it back, and more came. The basements twisted unnaturally into a maze. He struggled through the tar, which blended liquidly into the unfathomable shadows. He felt the space becoming an infinite expanse of murky void, like a nightmare.  
  
Eventually, Ethan came outside. The close, reeking back alleys were covered in tar as well. Passing down the narrow street, he began to feel pain rippling through his body. He winced, and cried out, leaning on the tar-covered wall. He looked around frantically, and something up high on the wall caught his eye. He picked up a brick and threw it up at the machine; it broke, and the pain stopped.  
  
 _Sound that can hurt. Maybe it's the Siren? She_ _ **is**_ _using some kind of machine._  
  
The tar began to clear the further he went, and he found himself at the night club Leland had mentioned, _The_ _Drain_. It was a shitty place, a couple letters in the sign blown out, smelling like alcohol and piss outside. A few homeless bums were sleeping nearby.  
  
 _Did anyone even hear the riots back at the building? Where'd the tar vanish to? Jesus, I'm losing my mind._  
  
He went inside. A few patrons glanced at him, then went back to drowning themselves. Ethan ordered a drink and asked when the act would come on.  
  
"When it starts," the bartender shrugged. "Bitches never show up on time."  
  
Ethan exhaled. He glanced at the clock. It was already early evening.  
  
An hour and a number of drinks later, two men came in. It was Dorland and LeRue, out of uniform and in hoodies to cover their gear. They nodded at Ethan discreetly, sitting separately around the bar.  
  
 _There's the back-up. God forbid they show up when I actually need them._  
  
"Who's the act tonight?" Ethan asked the bartender quietly.  
  
"Some girl lives across the street, junkie-looking whore," the bartender said. "Carla, think her name was."  
  
Ethan nodded. He glanced at the two disguised agents, and left the building. They saw him, but he didn't care.  
  
Ethan went to the apartments nearby, asking about Carla. It took a while, but he managed to get her apartment number. He was about to go up when Dorland came up behind him and turned him around. "What the hell are you doing?" he asked furiously. "You do not have clearance to investigate alone!"  
  
"Better than sitting on my ass waiting for a serial killer to fall into my hands."  
  
"Easy, guys," LeRue said in his laidback way. "This looks pretty obvious. If we're going to do something here, we'd better decide fast and split up again."  
  
"You two got your coms up?"  
  
They nodded.  
  
"All right, then let's block the exits in this place," Ethan said. "I'll go upstairs."  
  
"I don't trust you, Thomas," Dorland told him. "You have ten minutes, and keep that mic on."  
  
Ethan gave him a look but was too on edge to argue with him. He kept the line open, and headed upstairs alone. Halfway up to Carla's floor, the lights flickered, and he prayed they didn't go out.  
  
The fourth floor was wrecked, garbage strewn up and down the hallway. It looked like a tornado had been isolated here. Ethan drew his gun, carefully going down the hall. The woman's apartment door was ajar, and he realized they were too late. The question was, how late were they? Late enough to find the killer still on the scene?  
  
He removed his spectrometer to check for a body, but it did not pick up on any emissions. Still, it was reading a noise. He followed it through the apartment, until he came to the bedroom. The crime scene should have been here, but it wasn't. Instead, Ethan found himself staring down a large hole in the floor that looked to go down forever.  
  
"Agent Thomas, what's going on up there?" LeRue's voice came through his ear-piece. "You find anything?"  
  
"No body, but there's definitely someone in the building," Ethan replied, moving a UV light over the edges of the hole. "There's traces of blood in the apartment, around this giant hole in the floor. She might be in the--"  
  
Suddenly, the floorboards cracked ominously. He jumped back, but all the floor around him caved in. He fell far down into nothingness, and hit the floor hard amongst pieces of wood, ceiling, and debris.  
  
"Thomas, are you all right? Thomas!"  
  
"I'm here, LeRue."  
  
"What? I can hardly hear you."  
  
"I'm in the basement."  
  
"We'll meet you. Dor--"  
  
The voice faded out. Ethan removed the speaker from his ear impatiently, dragging himself to his feet. The shadows around him were moving. No. He knew they weren't just shadows.  
  
Ethan turned on his flashlight and ventured through the basements. They were crawling with inhuman creatures that crawled like overgrown roaches through the vents and pipes, trying to take him down, and the leftover groups of the insane homeless and drug addicts. There was no finding his way back up, so he used the spectrometer when he had a chance to follow the unusual sound.  
  
By the time he reached the heart of the basement and the source of the noise, he was out of bullets. He grabbed a pipe from the wall before advancing any farther. _Bad news is, I'm going after a serial killer with unknown powers at her disposal with a pipe. Good news is, if she really does kill with her voice alone, a gun wouldn't make any difference, anyway._  
  
There was the sound of laughter as he approached the boiler room, a woman's laughter. It made his hair stand on end, and as he got closer, it felt like the voice was seeping into his skin, ringing through his body like individual needles.  
  
"No, please!" another woman's desperate voice cried. "Stop it! I can't take anymore of this shit! Just fucking kill me!"  
  
"Aha ha, aha ha ha ha! Don't you want to sing for me? One last show?"  
  
"No! No, just stop this! Please, just stop!"  
  
"Aha . . . Such a quitter. All right, then. If you insist, I'll handle the . . . encore."  
  
Another sound shook the air, and Ethan fell to his knees in pain. He tried to keep quiet, but he cried out as it reverberated throughout his entire body. The feeling was the same as that machine he had broken earlier, but intensified. Just beyond him, he heard the younger woman screaming in pain, and then her voice faded to silence.  
  
"And who is joining the show?" the murderess asked softly. He could hear her heels clacking on the floor, getting closer. "If I had known I had an audience, I wouldn't have ended the show so quickly."  
  
Ethan waited until she was above him, then leapt up and grabbed her. She struggled violently but she was thin, waif-like. He held the pipe beneath her neck, holding her to the wall.  
  
"Why aren't you dead?" she asked furiously. "This will--"  
  
"Don't!" Ethan slammed her into the wall again, searching her for a device. There was none, as she was only wearing a thin black slip with very little beneath. He glanced at the dead girl behind them, her head exploded all over the room. "How are you doing this? HOW?"  
  
"Oh, of course you aren't dead," the Siren said, eerily amused and calm. She was tall, shockingly beautiful, with murky blue eyes and pale skin. There were barbs sticking out of her arms and legs, some strange kind of piercings, and metal rings on her mouth. Her long blond hair hung around her like a ghostly veil. "You're Ethan Thomas, aren't you? The hero. So they-- they sent you."  
  
"I asked you a question." Ethan punched her full in the stomach, causing her to cough. He had seen plenty of vicious females on the streets, and would allow her no courtesies.  
  
"Ungh . . . You . . . Didn't Leland tell you?" the Siren asked. She searched his eyes, then scowled. "Tch. That smartass. He must have known I was against them. So, he's still kissing up to them, is he? That coward."  
  
"What are you talking about? You know Leland Vanhorn?"  
  
She threw back her head and laughed, but then the laughter turned to that other sound. Ethan's grip went loose, and he gripped his head. The pain shot through his body, almost unbearable. Siren kicked him over onto his back, stepped on his chest, and leaned down on her knee.  
  
" _Know_ Leland Vanhorn?" she said derisively. "No, I don't _know_ him. I wouldn't associate with that selfish man, always trying to claw his way to the top of some serial-killer food chain. He must feel he has a lot to prove, powerless as he is."  
  
Ethan gripped her leg, but was shocked to find he could not move it. She dug her heel into his skin, twisting it, and he winced.  
  
"Were you proud of yourself for catching him? Please," she sneered, tossing her hair over one shoulder. "For all his melodrama and intelligence, he is actually nothing more than a small, jealous little man."  
  
"Jealous of _who_?"  
  
"You, me, all of us . . . with the gift. Even his uncle." She shook her head. "I almost pity the wretch. He wants it for himself soooo badly . . . "  
  
"What is 'the gift'?" Ethan asked. "What power are you talking about?"  
  
She smiled cruelly. "One you'll never live to realize. I don't see what the big deal is. You don't even know what you have. Tch. Rememdium . . . Ha ha ha . . . "  
  
Before she continued the laughter, Ethan mustered all his strength and pushed her off of himself. He overtook her before she had the chance to emit any noise, beating her face and body brutally. She cried out, but fought back as strongly as any man.  
  
"You _bastard_!"  
  
She had grabbed the pipe, and struck him over the head with it. Battered and bloodied, she climbed to her feet, backing away from him. "Didn't you ever learn to never hit a woman?"  
  
"Doesn't mean I can't take down a _bitch_ like you."  
  
She threw the pipe at him, and opened her mouth. But then she stopped, eyes falling behind Ethan, and a frightened look overtook her face. "You!"  
  
Ethan glanced around to see Dorland entering the room, gun aimed at her. "We finally found you, Siren."  
  
"Let me kill him!" she shrieked. "We'll all be better for it! You know that!"  
  
"That's enough."  
  
"Are you following _his_ orders?" she asked. "Why? You'd just let this man stumble through blindly? What if he realizes it? What then? He has the power to destroy the--"  
  
Ethan heard the gun go off, but also that noise. Before he lost consciousness, he noted that it had not come from her. Her head exploded, and everything went dark.


	4. Chapter 4

Ethan woke up with a headache. He was in a tight space, and struggled for minutes before he was able to pull himself out. He stumbled out from behind the boilers in the room. The girl's body was gone, save for the large patch of blood and matter. The same went for the Siren. Dorland and LeRue were not in contact, probably also gone. Ethan made his way out of the apartment building before doing anything else.  
  
Outside, it was a hot, steamy night. He wiped himself off, though it didn't help much, and opened his phone. "Rosa? You there?"  
  
In a moment, the woman's face appeared on the screen. "Oh my God! Ethan! You're alive?"  
  
"Yeah, 'course I'm alive."  
  
"You don't understand," Rosa said in a rush. "Dorland and LeRue got back, and Dorland was saying they lost you in the building. I thought . . . Well, I . . . "  
  
"Calm down, Rosa. I'm not dead," Ethan assured her, surprised by the emotion in her voice. "That asshole Dorland must have shoved me behind the boilers. I knew he didn't like me, but I guess that was an understatement. He wants me dead."  
  
"I can't believe he'd do that," Rosa said heatedly. She smiled anxiously. "Anyway, Ethan, I'm glad you're all right."  
  
"Yeah, can you do me a favor?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Don't tell the bureau I'm all right, okay? Especially Dorland."  
  
"I understand," Rosa said quickly. "Tell me everything."  
  
Ethan headed into the city as he explained about the Siren and Dorland. She was as perplexed as he was, which was never a good sign. He was used to her having all the bright ideas, finding the leads that escaped him.  
  
But when she did get an idea, it wasn't necessarily one he wanted to hear. "I know you're going to hate this, but why don't you visit Leland Vanhorn?" she cautiously suggested. "He has to know what his uncle has been hiding from you. Maybe you can get it out of him."  
  
"Maybe. But not using any conventional, bureau-friendly methods."  
  
"Well, that's the advantage of being dead, isn't it?" Rosa smiled slyly. "They can't blame a dead agent for anything that happens to Leland, can they?"  
  
"You've been associating with me too long, Rosa," chuckled Ethan. "All right. I'll do it."  
  
"But--"  
  
"I knew it was too good to be true."  
  
"Try not to kill him, okay?" Rosa said. "A beating can be blamed on the staff or any intruder in the hospital, but if Leland dies, you'll be the first one they arrest."  
  
"Yeah, yeah."  
  
"I mean it, Ethan!"  
  
"I'm not going to kill him. I promise."  
  
"Good luck, Ethan."  
  
He turned off the phone and headed down the streets. The entire nightmare of a day had started with Leland Vanhorn. He didn't think his life could have gotten any worse, until that morning, when he had found himself looking into those cruel eyes again. It would be difficult to keep his promise to Rosa.  
  
Halfway to the hospital, the street went dark. He backed into a building wall, trying to remain unseen. He was tired and weak, not in any shape to fight. Thankfully, everything lit up again. The TVs in the store window buzzed and flickered, and an image came on.  
  
 _'But why not kill Leland Vanhorn?'_  
  
Ethan turned to see the masked man on the television screen. There was no way in hell it wasn't a hallucination, but he watched him, listened to him.  
  
 _'How many chances are you going to let pass you by? Do you even_ _ **want**_ _to end it? Do you, Ethan?'  
  
_ Ethan exhaled wearily. "Of course I want it to end."  
  
 _'Then why are you prolonging it? Are you sure there isn't . . . something . . .staying your hand?'_  
  
"Yeah, there is." Ethan faced the TVs. "I don't want to end up becoming him. You get that? I don't want to be a murderer."  
  
 _'You already_ _ **are**_ _a murderer. What would it be but another case of self-defense? Come on, Ethan, stop using so many bullshit excuses. You're smarter than that.'_  
  
"Okay, you tell me. Go on! Tell me! You know everything, right?"  
  
 _'I do know. But why say? It's so much more enjoyable to watch you figure it out.'_  
  
The TV screen faded to black. Ethan sighed, wondering why he was arguing with himself, or the hallucination, or whatever the hell the masked man was. He continued down the street, to the asylum.  
  
He broke in through a broken window easily, creeping through the deserted halls. Even the junkies and hoodlums usually left this place alone out of fear of the patients. No one would be here at night. Or so he thought.  
  
There was light shining from one cell, and he knew instantly that it was Leland's. Ethan crept around, low to the floor, to the very edge of the door. It was open just a crack, and he peeked in.  
  
Leland was in his strait jacket, sitting on his bed cross-legged. He was looking up with an uncharacteristically troubled frown, at none other than his uncle.  
  
"No, I didn't," Leland was saying defensively. "But not because of you. Because of _them_."  
  
"Oh, Leland," sighed Vanhorn. "Tell me-- _Tell me_ you aren't still harboring those ridiculous plans to join them? Haven't you done enough? Haven't you put your life in enough danger?"  
  
"It won't be enough until I **win** ," Leland replied calmly. "You have no right to stop me. You're the one who stole my birthright from me!"  
  
"That isn't true!"  
  
"You destroyed my life!" Leland shouted. "Damn it! Stop playing innocent! You know what you're doing. You always have."  
  
"I'm protecting you, Leland."  
  
"Fucking liar!"  
  
 _I've never seen Leland like this,_ Ethan thought. _His arrogance and smugness is gone. He's out of control. Is this what happens when he's the trapped one? It's almost childish._  
  
"LIAR!" Leland repeated fiercely. "I've never been your nephew, just your prisoner. That's all you want, you bastard." He grinned maniacally. "Does Ethan know exactly why you wanted me restrained? Or does he just swallow the bullshit about us being family? Huh? Answer me!"  
  
"Ethan knows the truth."  
  
"You mean he knows _your_ truth," Leland said. "Maybe it's time he knew mine."  
  
At this, Vanhorn slapped him across the face, and grabbed him by the shoulders. Ethan was stunned, much more so than Leland, who seemed to have expected it.  
  
"Leland, I am warning you . . . "  
  
 _That's quite a switch from his usual unconditional love,_ Ethan observed. He smirked at seeing the handprint on the man's face, knowing it must be killing him to be helpless and reigned in.  
  
"Warning me?" Leland asked incredulously. "Is that so, _uncle_?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Leland laughed strangely. "Are you going to spank me? Is that it? Ha! Take me over your knees, get a rise out of it . . . Would it be more erotic now, that I'm a grown man? Huh?"  
  
Ethan frowned at his choice of words. There was a bitterness so sincere in his voice that it cast new doubts on Vanhorn, very serious ones.  
  
"No, I'm not going to spank you, Leland. But I will hurt you."  
  
"Of course," Leland said darkly. "As much as you claim to hate the power, you've never hesitated to use it against me. Only me." He looked at his uncle defiantly. "You think I'm still scared of you? That's what you wanted, wasn't it? You wanted me to be afraid of you again. Well, I'm not! I'll tell Thomas anything I choose, and when I get out of here, you'll die for what you've done to-- AAAAAGGGHHH!"  
  
There was that uniquely piercing and painful sound again. Leland's body shook, then went still. Vanhorn lay him down on his back, standing over him with an intimate closeness, expression concerned. Leland was breathing hard, appearing in shock from the pain.  
  
"Why do you make me hurt you, Leland?" Vanhorn asked mournfully. "Why can't you just do what you're told?"  
  
"I don't-- I don't make you," panted the dazed killer. He shook his head from side to side on the pillow. "You . . . enjoy it . . . always have . . . you sick . . . son . . . of a . . . "  
  
"Ethan will not be back to see you," Vanhorn informed him. "Even if he does come, do you honestly think he'll believe you?"  
  
"Oh yeah, right, I . . . I'm the crazy one." Leland licked his lips, gasping in several short, urgent breaths.  
  
"Yes, you are." Vanhorn leaned down and murmured something to him that Ethan could not hear. Then, he gave the man's forehead a lingering kiss. Leland cried out in frustrated disgust, turning his head again. Vanhorn brushed his brown hair out of his face, then turned to leave.  
  
Ethan quickly moved away from the door. He hid down the hall in the shadows, and Vanhorn left without seeing him. He breathed in relief, letting minutes pass before he moved again. Leland's door was locked, light shut off. He picked the locks and entered.  
  
"I had a feeling you would be back," Leland said, thinking it was his uncle. "It's been so long since you had me all tied up and powerless."  
  
"Actually, it's only been since this morning."  
  
Leland lifted his head. "Mr. Thomas. Now that is a surprise."  
  
Ethan left the lights off, coming around beside his bed. Leland looked up at him, but his usual bravado was gone. After a moment, he averted his gaze.  
  
"I found the Siren," Ethan said. "It only led to more questions than answers."  
  
"Pity."  
  
"Yeah, it is, because now my problem is your problem." Ethan took him by the front of the strait jacket. "Why didn't you tell me what she wanted you to?"  
  
"As I've said, I do not like you," Leland said simply. "I'm not out to help you."  
  
"Well, you're **going to** help me, whether you like it or not."  
  
"Or what? You'll kill me?"  
  
Ethan looked at him, and the voice began whispering in his mind.  
  
 _'Do it. End it.'_  
  
Ethan's eyes went to Leland's neck, and Leland noticed. He watched Ethan curiously, until Ethan slammed his fist into his rib cage. Leland cried out in pain and anger, doubling over as best he could in the bed. Whatever Vanhorn had done to him, it had left him considerably weakened.  
  
"Now you listen carefully, you worthless piece of shit," Ethan said, shaking him. "Listen!"  
  
Leland scowled, but made no protest. Ethan recounted the night's events, releasing the man halfway through. Leland was sitting up on the bed now, and moved against the metal rails that were the headboard. He stared at the ceiling, looking thoroughly defeated and exhausted.  
  
"Did you get all that?" Ethan asked, turning Leland's head towards his own by the hair.  
  
Leland kicked him off, hard. "I _heard_ you, Mr. Thomas. But apparently, you didn't hear yourself. I am not 'kissing up to' anyone, but there is a certain . . . organization that I cannot afford to piss off."  
  
"Who, damn it?"  
  
"People who can _hear_ , Thomas!" snapped Leland. "They're watching us even now. They're always watching, and listening."  
  
"Okay, fine. So, what does this nameless organization want with me?"  
  
"If I won't even tell you their name, what the hell makes you think I would tell you their plans?"  
  
"This does." Ethan drew a combat knife from his belt and moved to the end of the bed. "You know, it's amazing how you can miss even a tiny piece of yourself like a finger-- or a toe." He grabbed Leland by the ankle, pulling his foot closer. Leland kicked at his face, missed. "One may not make much difference, but who knows? If I have to keep going, you could end up missing a good portion of your foot, or feet."  
  
Leland glanced at Ethan's mutilated hand, and for the first time, he did not smirk. Instead, he turned his face, tightening his lips. "An eye for an eye, is it? Do you even realize how much you've become like me, Ethan?"  
  
The truth of the words, and being called by his first name by Leland, threw him off for a moment. He hesitated, hand pressing into the man's ankle tightly, bruising him. "Don't turn this around on me," he finally retorted. "Are you going to answer my questions--" He held the knife to Leland's foot. "--or not?"  
  
The killer eyed the knife warily. He knew all too well what it was capable of. All the screams of agony he had caused by it went through his mind, so many images of flesh being sliced apart.  
  
"You have a power they view as a threat," Leland admitted. "Some want to harness that power, keep you alive. The rest want you dead. Satisfied?"  
  
"Not yet."  
  
This time, Leland's kick hit Ethan square in the jaw. He kicked him again, in the stomach, and Ethan overtook him. He was hard to hold down, even in the jacket, causing Ethan to hold the knife to his throat. "One more question."  
  
" _What_?"  
  
"What is Rememdium?"  
  
" _You_ are Rememdium, you fool!" Leland said angrily, writhing. "It's your power. Don't ask me any more than that!"  
  
"You know, I should cut you up anyway, just for the hell of it," Ethan said. "You chopped off my finger for pissing you off, remember? We're so alike now, right? So why not go all the way?"  
  
"You're all talk. You don't have it in you."  
  
"You don't think so?"  
  
Ethan lifted the knife above Leland's thigh, ready to plunge it in. If he hit an artery, he didn't much care. Before he was able to bring it down, there was a droning, mechanical sound, and then a click. He sheathed the knife on his belt distractedly. "Hell was that?"  
  
Leland sat up, shaking his hair back from his face. "Power failure."  
  
"I thought there was a back-up generator?"  
  
"There is."  
  
Ethan climbed off the bed, heading for the door. "I'm out of here before any riots--" He tried to open the door, but it did not budge. "--break . . . out . . . "  
  
Leland watched him struggle for a few moments, then said, "It's a mechanical lock. It won't open until the power comes back on fully and the security systems are reset."  
  
Ethan turned to him. Leland scowled. Tension permeated the room like a fog.  
  
"It won't open," Ethan repeated blankly.  
  
"No."  
  
" _Fuck_ ," Ethan swore, pounding the door. "You're kidding me!"  
  
"Isn't this cozy?" Leland said cynically. He settled back against his pillow, but did not take his eyes off Ethan. “Well, you've been waiting for your chance to have me at your mercy. Here it is. What are you going to do, Mr. Thomas? What exactly are you going to do?”  
  
"Shut up. Just shut the fuck up."  
  
Leland shrugged nonchalantly. Silence fell between them, drawing out the long minutes. Ethan considered talking to Rosa, but she had once been confronted by Leland, and he didn't want to risk bringing her back to his attention. The orange glow of the hall lights seeped in, illuminating everything in a surreal amber hue.  
  
If he didn't talk soon, Ethan felt like he might go crazy himself. He looked over at Leland, who appeared to be close to dozing off. Deciding to get his attention fast, he asked, "What's the deal between you and Vanhorn?"  
  
"My uncle? I wouldn't know. I haven't seen him."  
  
"I saw him in here, Leland. I heard you two arguing."  
  
Leland swallowed, pausing for a moment. " . . . I see."  
  
"You said some weird things. Were you just antagonizing him, or what?"  
  
"I don't see how answering this would help you."  
  
"Just tell me."  
  
"Why? So you can go into one of your petty rages at my uncle's defense? Does it even matter?" Leland asked. "You wouldn't believe me, and if you did, so what? It wouldn't make any difference."  
  
"I need to know the truth about you two if I'm ever going to get out from in-between whatever you have going on," Ethan explained. "I can't say I'll believe you, but I can't say I won't, either. I just want to hear it."  
  
"Hear what?" Leland asked wearily. "A sob story? Do you want to pity me? Laugh at me? What? What is it you want?"  
  
"Funny, I was thinking the same about you last year. Guess you know how it feels now."  
  
"So, you're just trying to annoy me?"  
  
"No." Ethan got to his feet, approaching Leland's bed cautiously. "I'm asking because I want to hear the truth. I want to hear . . . _your_ truth."  
  
"The truth is we hate each other, and always have," Leland said flatly. "He touts the fact that he raised me as some sort of noble venture, but that's a lie. The _truth_ is, he stole me away from my family, denied me my birthright, and kept me like some sort of prisoner my entire life."  
  
"Why would he kidnap you?"  
  
"As payback against my father," Leland said. He exhaled, thinking for a moment before deciding to go on. "My parents were the ones who killed his wife, and inadvertently his child. But he wasn't strong enough to exact revenge on my father directly. So, he took what they valued most, their child."  
  
Ethan wanted to deny it, call him a liar and hit him, but he couldn't. Leland was many things, but didn't lie as often as one might think; he was honest about what he was, wanted, and did. There was not much reason for him to lie about the past.  
  
"He says he loves me, wants to protect me, but none of that is true," Leland said. "I never believed it. Maybe he actually convinced himself of it, and I have no doubt he's convinced you, but it's just an excuse. He never could accept the influence of the organization in himself. He'd rather cover his dirty actions with the best of intentions."  
  
"Wait a minute. The organization? He was a member of the same group?"  
  
"As Siren and all the others? Yes, he was, but he betrayed them." Leland scowled. "He was too cowardly to accept his power."  
  
"This kind of power of voice and sound?"  
  
Leland nodded, but did not divulge the details of the mysterious power.  
  
"Why don't you have the power, then? Is it learned or implanted-- what?"  
  
"It's inherited, but I . . . " Leland stopped short, lowering his gaze. " . . . "  
  
"Skipped a generation, huh?"  
  
Leland glowered at him. "He must have done something to squelch it. There was no way I was born without it."  
  
It was an obvious lie, but Ethan decided to let him believe it. At some point, Ethan had sunk down onto the edge of the bed. This time, he had no desire to threaten Leland with their closeness. He was merely exhausted.  
  
"He used it to hurt you," he said quietly. "Did he always do that?"  
  
"No, not when I was small enough to overpower," Leland said. "But then I grew up. Suddenly, I was stronger than him physically. He couldn't just manipulate me and scare me at will anymore. That's when he started using it. The power he cheated me of . . . he just throws it in my face like nothing . . . "  
  
"Poor murderer," Ethan said sarcastically. "You ever stop to think you deserve it?"  
  
"His reasons aren't based on justice or discipline," Leland said. "He just wants to hurt me."  
  
"Big surprise. So do I."  
  
"I was a child," Leland said tensely, temper starting to flare. "I hadn't done anything to deserve everything he did to me, not back then."  
  
"You're claiming abuse, then?"  
  
"Don't make it sound so pathetic," Leland scoffed. "But yes, he has hurt and humiliated me in every way possible. My uncle is a cruel, calculating man."  
  
Ethan looked the man up and down. "Just how cruel _was_ he?"  
  
Leland shifted anxiously, arms writhing in the strait jacket.  
  
"You made it sound like there was more than disciplinary abuse, a lot more," Ethan said. "Did he--"  
  
"What? Fuck me?" Leland asked loudly. "Yeah, you'd really like to know, wouldn't you? The classic profile, isn't it? Abused child turns into homicidal maniac. Well, yes! YES! He did! He . . . He did."  
  
Ethan shook his head. "No, I . . . No. I can't believe it."  
  
Leland was relieved that he didn't, hating himself for the outburst. _Hell is wrong with me? This place, the drugs, my uncle . . . I am_ _ **not**_ _crazy, but if I stay here, I may very well go insane soon . . ._  
  
"Can I ask you something?"  
  
"No."  
  
"If it is true, and he did . . . abuse you, then why haven't you killed him? I would have thought it'd be the first thing you did?"  
  
"He didn't fit my agenda," Leland said loftily. "I came to the city for the same reason you did: to bring justice. Granted, I was more devoted and efficient, but we all have our own ways."  
  
 _For the same reason I did? Vanhorn was right, he is obsessed with me. I don't even think he realizes how much._  
  
"He will fit my next pattern, however," Leland went on.  
  
"I still . . . I'm not sure if I believe you," Ethan said. "But if it is true, then . . . that would be one murder I wouldn't stand in your way for."  
  
Leland raised his eyebrows. "That is especially ironic coming from you."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because you are the man he chose to play out his role for him," Leland said. "He doesn't have enough power to restrain me anymore, but you do. I stand corrected: it isn't me that you've become like, it's my uncle."  
  
"That isn't true!"  
  
"Isn't it?"  
  
Ethan thought of the pleasure that heated his blood every time he struck the man. Even when Leland was upset and being tormented by his uncle, watching the scene had brought him nothing but gratification.  
  
"You put me through hell last year," Ethan reminded him. "You can't blame me for wanting to see you suffer."  
  
"Everyone has a reason for wanting another to suffer, Mr. Thomas," Leland said. "But there's something that separates people like my uncle, you, and I from the others. I believe you know what I'm talking about."  
  
"What? You're saying we all get off on violence?"  
  
"To put it vulgarly, yes."  
  
"That's crazy," Ethan said, standing from the bed and pacing. "I've kicked your ass several times by now. You don't see me raping you, do you?"  
  
"Not yet."  
  
Ethan turned to him. "Maybe you're just seeing what you _want_ to see, Leland."  
  
"Wouldn't you love that?"  
  
Ethan went to try the door again. He gripped the door handle but did not move it. His eyes narrowed as he gazed out the small window. "Oh shit. Rioters."  
  
"They'll open this place up," Leland murmured, eyes glimmering with eagerness. "The lunatics will be free."  
  
"Present company included."  
  
Leland climbed down from the bed, stumbling towards Ethan. "You have to get this off of me."  
  
"Yeah right."  
  
"They'll come and set me free, anyway," Leland pointed out. "Do you honestly want me to go with them to hunt you down? Or are you going to stop being such an idiot and let me help you?"  
  
"Help? _You_? Yeah, if being stabbed in the back is considered 'help'."  
  
"I will stab you from the front, but now is not the time." Leland came to his side and looked at him belligerantly. "They know you're here, and they don't want you to leave alive."  
  
"Neither do you."  
  
Leland shook his head. "There are too many loose ends that can't be tied without you. Do you understand? Trust me."  
  
Ethan hesitated. _I must be losing it if I'm actually considering it._  
  
"If I were going to kill you, I would tell you," Leland said. "Believe it or not, there are more dangerous people out there than me. And I want them out of the way before we settle the score."  
  
The door unlocked.  
  
"You try anything, and I'll be too happy to slit your fucking throat," Ethan warned him, drawing his knife. He cut through the jacket, then held it in hand, ready to slice the man.  
  
Leland was jarringly calm, rubbing his arms a little. He went to the bed and started prying off a bar to fight with. "You're too high strung. Relax." He broke it off, turning to Ethan with a smile. "It's going to be a long night."  
  
The hospital was swarming. There was no way Ethan could have gone it alone. Leland kept his word and did not attack him. He was busy enough viciously beating down the rioters and other patients.  
  
Eventually, the red and blue lights of police vehicles flashed through the boarded-up windows. Ethan grabbed at Leland. "End of the road, SKX."  
  
Leland pulled away. "I don't think so, Mr. Thomas."  
  
They faced one another warily.  
  
"You're not going to go out there, are you?" Leland asked. "Don't you think of anything? Have you realized how the riots and blackouts just seem to follow you?"  
  
Voices were barking at the building, telling everyone to come out.  
  
"I am not going to let you escape in this," Ethan said firmly. He had long since run out of bullets, but had a 2x4. "Once you're on the street, you'll start killing again."  
  
Leland was watching him closely, waiting for a chance to strike. The two sidestepped around each other. Outside, the police were starting to surround the building.  
  
"Have I really become so predictable, Ethan?"  
  
"My friends call me 'Ethan'," he said. "You don't call me shit."  
  
"I will call you whatever I want," Leland said, eyes cold and dangerous now. "Why the sudden attitude, Mr. Thomas? And here I thought we were getting along . . . . "  
  
"You used me once, so I used you. We're even."  
  
"You're a fast learner."  
  
The police crashed through the front entrance. Ethan made the mistake of glancing back for a moment, only to be hit over the head by Leland's pipe. "Agh! Damn!"  
  
When he looked up, Leland was gone. He was about to chase after him, but was surrounded by agents in moments.  
  
"Hey, hey! Relax!" he barked at them, surrounded by guns. "It's me. It's Agent Thomas."  
  
"Hey, man, you're alive?" LeRue asked, motioning for the others to lower their weapons. "Dorland here said--"  
  
"Yeah, I don't give a shit what Dorland said!" Ethan snapped, glaring at Dorland. "He knew damn well I was alive, and he left me there to die. Didn't you?"  
  
"I don't know what you're talking about," Dorland said. "Damn crazy drunk."  
  
"Look, never mind, I need to get out here."  
  
Dorland grabbed him. "Not so fast!"  
  
Ethan shook him off. "Serial Killer X just ran out of here, all right? I need to go after him!"  
  
"You're not going anywhere."  
  
"Or what? You gonna shoot me? So shoot me!"  
  
Ethan headed down the hall.  
  
"We have orders to take you in! You disobey us, and you'll find yourself out of the bureau!"  
  
Ethan ignored him, breaking into a run. He half-expected one of them to shoot him, but no one did. He turned his attention to following Leland. He knew the man wouldn't face off with the police, and had taken the most shrouded route: through the service rooms.  
  
He could tell SKX had come through, but his trail ended outside the building. It was raining, so any footprints the barefoot mental hospital escapee might have left behind had been washed away. Ethan looked out into the sky helplessly. His worst fear had come true: Serial Killer X was on the loose again.


	5. Chapter 5

Ethan wandered aimlessly into the night, then called Rosa. She told him the bureau was abuzz with accusations. She had been dismissed for the rest of the night, and staying would have been suspicious. "Why don't you come to my apartment?" she suggested. "We can talk safely there."  
  
Ethan hesitated. "Your apartment?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Okay. Address?"  
  
She sent him the location, and he headed down. Rosa lived in a nicer part of town, although he still thought she was too good for this cursed city. Her building was clean, cool, and quiet. She smiled up at him when she opened her door, letting him in quickly and locking it.  
  
"You look like hell," she observed. "What happened?"  
  
Ethan sat down on her sofa, unwinding the makeshift bandages from his fists and wrists. He told her the events that took place in the asylum, from Vanhorn's treatment of Leland to the escape. By the end, he had removed his gear, and she was sitting on the sofa next to him.  
  
Ethan was uncomfortable so close to her. He stood, opening his phone. "I have to call Vanhorn," he said. "I have a hunch he'll be the first one Leland targets."  
  
"You sure it won't be you?"  
  
Ethan shook his head."Nah. You should have heard the things he said. It doesn't matter if they're true or not, he obviously believes them."  
  
"How can you tell?" Rosa asked. "Are you sure he wasn't just playing you?"  
  
"He wouldn't do that," Ethan said, dialing the number. "He's not the type to make up stories for sympathy. He kind of just burst out with it-- I don't think he even meant to."  
  
"That's sad."  
  
Ethan glanced at her.  
  
"Don't give me that look," Rosa said, standing. "I'm not going to have sympathy for the devil. But even you can't deny that his background would be incredibly tragic if it's true."  
  
"An American tragedy. Yeah." Ethan waited impatiently as the phone rang. "Come on, Vanhorn. Pick up."  
  
"Ethan?" a muffled, tired voice came through the phone. "Is that you?"  
  
"Yeah, it's me. Listen, we have to talk."  
  
"It's the middle of the night. What are--"  
  
"Leland escaped."  
  
"What? Are you sure?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"How did he escape?"  
  
"A riot and blackout."  
  
"I can't believe it. All right. I have to take care of something. I'll meet you in the morning at your apartment."  
  
"No, wait, wait! I need answers _now_ , Vanhorn!" Ethan yelled into the phone. "I was there tonight, okay?"  
  
"Are you telling me _you_ allowed my nephew to escape?"  
  
"No! Well, I-- . . . It wasn't intentional."  
  
"You disappoint me, Ethan. I hope for your sake you get him _back_."  
  
"Is that a threat?"  
  
The phone went silent. "Hey! HEY! Damn it."  
  
Rosa came back from the kitchen, handing him a beer. "What happened?"  
  
"Bastard hung up on me," Ethan explained. "I have a bad feeling about this."  
  
"Well, why don't you crash on the sofa for the night? You've been going nonstop since this morning."  
  
"Yeah . . . " Ethan glanced at the sofa. "You don't mind? I'm kind of filthy."  
  
"You are completely filthy," laughed Rosa. "Why don't you take a shower?"  
  
"A-- shower? Um . . . Okay."  
  
"I probably have some clothes from my husband left around here. You can change."  
  
"You're married, Rosa?"  
  
She laughed. "No, no, not anymore. It was a mistake, a very old mistake. I never mentioned it?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Hmm, we've never really talked, have we?"  
  
"Well, I don't have much to talk about," Ethan shrugged. "But you, you were married-- I can't believe I never knew that."  
  
"It was a long time ago." Rosa took the ponytail holder out of her hair, and shook out the tightness. She looked very pretty, as a real person. Ethan had never seen her so casual and relaxed before. "It's weird, we've known each other a while, but we really don't know much about each other at all."  
  
"I know I trust you. That's all that's important to me."  
  
She smiled, eyes going soft for a moment. Then, she turned aside, looking in a dresser. "Anyway, the bathroom is down the hall. I'll see if I can find some clothes."  
  
Ethan came up beside her, but she did not look up. He lifted a hand to touch her shoulder, but refrained. _She deserves better._  
  
"Thanks, Rosa. You're a great friend."  
  
"You, too, Ethan."  
  
He showered and changed, then went to sleep on the sofa. For the first time in a long while, he slept peacefully.  
  
The next morning, both Ethan and Rosa were ready to go back to their respective business. She offered him breakfast, but they ended up both grabbing a granola bar and going. She went back to the bureau to help him with evidence analysis, and he headed out to see Vanhorn.  
  
The man was not at Ethan's apartment, so he waited. As he sat on the sofa, he noticed how derelict his apartment looked in comparison to Rosa's. It stunk of booze and sweat, the air conditioning was broken. Maybe he should take more care of it . . .  
  
He checked the clock. It was ten in the morning. Vanhorn still hadn't shown. He dialed his number, but got no answer. _Leland better not have gotten to him,_ he thought. _I'm still pissed at Vanhorn, but I need him. He's one of the few shots at getting answers I have._  
  
Around noon, Rosa called. "Ethan? I'm afraid I have some bad news."  
  
Ethan drew a breath. "He got Vanhorn, didn't he?"  
  
"No, but he's gone all the same," Rosa replied. "Vanhorn chartered a private plane this morning. He headed out somewhere in the mountains, and the pilot and plane have been out of contact for a couple of hours."  
  
"Great. Just great."  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
"So am I," Ethan said angrily, going over to the cabinet of liquor. "I really thought I could trust Vanhorn, at least a little. But he was just using me." He slammed his fist into the cabinet top. "He's been using me from the start, that bastard. I let Serial Killer X live for him! Now he's gone, SKX is out there doing God knows what . . . "  
  
He downed a drink, poured another.  
  
"I'll go through a list of Vanhorn's properties, maybe there's one located in the mountains," Rosa said. "Give me a few-- Huh? Just a sec."  
  
Ethan turned around, bottle in hand, and sat on the sofa. The television screen was flickering.  
  
 _'What did I tell you? You have your chance.'_  
  
Ethan put down his phone and kicked the TV in. "Shut up! Shut _up_ , motherfucker! Just shut up!"  
  
"Ethan?"  
  
He exhaled and picked up the phone. "Yeah."  
  
"We just got news that the mayor has been murdered."  
  
"Oh jeez . . . " Ethan rubbed his face. "Where?"  
  
"The city's central park," Rosa replied. "She was there for a political rally at the gardens this morning, disappeared around ten-thirty; they found her body at the entrance to the hedge maze garden just minutes ago. Everyone is down there, and get this: Farrell wants _you_ on the case."  
  
"Really? I thought I didn't have a job after last night."  
  
"Farrell insisted."  
  
"Huh. Maybe he's not as big an asshole as I thought."  
  
"Maybe."  
  
"Rosa?"  
  
"I was just thinking about some things, that's all," Rosa smiled. "Don't worry about it. Anyway, are you going to the park? Maybe it'll kill time while I try to locate Vanhorn."  
  
"Yeah, sounds like a plan."  
  
Ethan got on the next bus to the City Park. He watched the streets go by, wondering why he was still living here. He thought he saw the bus driver look at him in the rear-view mirror, but chalked it up to paranoia. Rain broke out, heavy and forceful, and the sky went dark. _Can't I ever have a bright, sunny murder scene?_ Ethan wondered idly. _Bad enough the heat wave . . ._  
  
The phone rang and he picked it up. "Rosa?"  
  
"No."  
  
Ethan tensed, glancing around at the passengers. He sat up, using all his reserve to remain calm. "Where the hell did you go, Vanhorn? Fuck kind of game are you playing?"  
  
"I'm not playing you, Ethan, or Leland, for that matter," Vanhorn said. "I know I must have sounded accusatory last night, and I apologize. I'm simply frightened for my nephew's sake."  
  
"Well you should be frightened for your own sake," Ethan retorted. "He's going to come after you, you know."  
  
"I know, that is why I had to leave immediately. It isn't even safe to be speaking with you right--"  
  
"Before you hang up again, I need answers," Ethan said. "You've got to tell me everything, okay? I trusted you. I deserve better than lies and bullshit."  
  
"I will tell you, Ethan. That is why I came here," Vanhorn said. "But I can't right now, it would take too much time."  
  
"It's just one thing."  
  
"Ethan, I--"  
  
"I saw the way you treated Leland last night," Ethan interrupted. "When I'm around, you act like you'd allow him anything, like he shouldn't be punished for his insanity. So what the hell was that?"  
  
"Leland has always been a . . . willful man. He sometimes needs more than I am comfortable giving."  
  
"He was restrained, he didn't 'need' anything," Ethan argued. "All he said was that he was going to tell me 'his truth', and you slapped him. Why?"  
  
"I can't stand his filthy accusations," Vanhorn said sharply. "He always had such paranoia and darkness in his mind."  
  
"Is it just paranoia? Because it didn't sound like it when I talked to him."  
  
"It . . . My intentions have never--"  
  
"I don't give a damn about your intentions!" snapped Ethan. "What did you _do_? What did you do to him?"  
  
"You actually believed him?"  
  
"Why would he lie?" Ethan said. "He doesn't want sympathy, he doesn't want my pity."  
  
"He's _insane_ , Ethan!"  
  
"You're avoiding the question," Ethan said angrily. "I'm just going to ask straight out. Did you hit him?"  
  
"Yes, I did. You must understand he was already so influenced and damaged . . . " Vanhorn exhaled through the phone, paused. "It was imperative to be strict in my upbringing of him."  
  
"Okay, I get that much," Ethan said. He mulled over Leland's words in his mind, recalled the deep void in his eyes when he spoke of his past, the bitterness in his voice. "What else?"  
  
Silence.  
  
Ethan exhaled, rubbing his forehead between the eyes. "Did you rape him?"  
  
Still no answer.  
  
"Answer me!" Ethan shouted into the phone. "He told me you did. Was he lying?"  
  
"It's complicated. Their influence is so strong, and I . . . lost so much to them . . . "  
  
"Yeah, Leland mentioned that his parents killed your wife and child."  
  
"They did."  
  
"So you stole him?"  
  
"I saved him, Ethan. I truly did. Living inside the Oro is not living."  
  
"Oro?"  
  
"Yes. I can't say any more right now."  
  
"Just tell me. Is it true?"  
  
"Please--"  
  
" **Is it true**?"  
  
There was a pause so long that Ethan thought he had hung up again. Then, the man's voice came through in a barely audible murmur, " . . . Yes. It is true."  
  
Ethan stared blankly out the window beside him. His heartbeat had accelerated, and his face felt warm. Something was gnawing at the back of his mind, but he didn't know what. To his surprise, he felt a tinge of pity for the murderer. His words went through his mind, so strongly spoken, but with such anguish: _'I was a child. I hadn't done anything to deserve everything he did to me, not back then.'  
  
_ "We were alone out there. We had to be," Vanhorn went on. "He was very young, not even five, when I took him. I knew he was confused, but he was always taciturn, keeping everything to himself. I explained as best I could, but he must have seen through me, even at that age. Still, it was peaceful the first five years. He was quiet and aloof, but I loved him. I **did** love him, Ethan."  
  
"So what happened?"  
  
"The residue left on his mind from those first years of his life was strong, and it began to consume him when he got a little older. He started drawing things, disturbing things, and writing out strange, rambling ideas. There was violence in him, a great magnitude of it. I tried to speak with him, reassure him, but it didn't stop. So, I ignored it. I thought it would pass."  
  
"But it got worse, didn't it?"  
  
"Yes," Vanhorn said quietly. "He started with small things, throwing rocks at birds, kicking small animals outside the house. Then, it got worse. He . . . _killed_ a small wild dog that frequented the yard, told me it was justified because the dog had eaten a squirrel. But it wasn't only the act of killing an animal that disturbed me; he had cut it open with one of the kitchen knives, dissected it. I asked him why, and he said he was curious. I scolded him very harshly, warned him never to take a life again, and he sulked for a bit. I thought he might listen, but of course, he didn't.  
  
"Leland was twelve when he killed the next dog, old enough to know better. But the taste of blood and death fascinated him greatly. He would go into the woods and kill things, always cutting them open. There was a medical brilliance to his knowledge of the anatomy, and a cruel sense of purpose. One night, I simply could not stand it anymore. I could not allow him to continue his massacre."  
  
Ethan listened with his own fascination, vaguely picturing the scene. The image of the little Leland murdering animals, expensive clothes stained with blood, floated through his mind as clearly as if the memory were his own. A very thin, small child, deceptively cute, but always those icy eyes . . .  
  
"I beat him for it," Vanhorn said grimly. "It had to stop. I truly only wanted to help him at that point."  
  
"Beat him . . . How?"  
  
"How?" Vanhorn echoed. "Does it matter?"  
  
"I would just like to know."  
  
"Well, it was less of a _beating_ and more of a spanking, I suppose. I put him over my knees, took down his pants, and struck him for a while with my hand. It couldn't have hurt very much."  
  
"But he cried."  
  
"How did you know?"  
  
"I don't know, I just . . . had a sense of it," Ethan replied, perplexed as well. "It wasn't the pain, was it? He was outraged and humiliated."  
  
"And hurt. I don't know, perhaps it was the wrong way of dealing with it," Vanhorn said. "It was a while back, and I was desperate. But after that, something came between us. He was no longer aloof, but downright cold. Instead of ignoring me when I reached out to him, he would pull back. Most dangerously, he learned to hide his behavior altogether. He hid his journal beneath the floorboards, kept clean when he came back inside, buried the animals he would slaughter. It would be years before I even realized he had never stopped.  
  
"When I did learn of his true nature, I completely lost it. He was fourteen, and I couldn't stop yelling at him. Why was he this way? Why couldn't he fight their influence? He was the only family I had left in the world, and he was destroying himself mentally. This time, he was not simply sullen, but he argued back. He insulted me more viciously than anyone had in my entire life. That was when I slapped him. The shock of striking him in that manner sent me reeling, but he was only further enraged. He attacked me. I believe he would have killed me right then, if I hadn't . . . "  
  
"You used that power to stop him."  
  
"Yes. It sent him into hysterics. I didn't know it, but he had read my diaries and journals, logs, files, everything. He knew everything about the Oro and our past. He went ranting on about his birthright and being kidnapped, threatening to kill me. I tried explaining my position to him, but he didn't care. He never cared.  
  
"He would not love me, but he needed to respect me. If he was ever going to make it, he had to understand. I wanted to **make** him understand. Little did I know his influenced behavior was only setting off my own neurosis and darkness.  
  
"I shouldn't have allowed myself to feel that cruel, sadistic anger. He was a child, a confused child, and I should have left him. However, I . . . barely even knowing it myself, I reacted. I took him down over his bed, and I beat him with a belt. I lost all control, I just wanted to hurt him. I . . . I enjoyed hurting him."  
  
 _I know that feeling,_ Ethan thought.  
  
"That-- that finally broke him. I felt . . . relieved . . . to see him emote. It was good to know he was capable of crying, that he was still human in some way. He was fragile, suddenly, and so young . . . I wanted to comfort him, but I also wanted to keep . . . keep hurting him. And that voice inside me, crawling in me, controlling my mind . . . "  
  
Ethan looked up, and suddenly the bus was empty. He looked around. Everyone was gone, the windows were blackened out. _But I can't be dreaming, I'm still talking to him. Am I hallucinating?_  
  
"I tried to . . . to ease the sting, but I found myself squeezing him just to hear him cry out. I tried to hold him, but . . . It was the first time I ever saw real fear in his eyes. I savored it. He was so vulnerable . . . but his eyes were his father's. Those same eyes I despised. The eyes of the man who took everything from me. It was as if I stepped out of myself, and became a monster . . . "  
  
Ethan turned around in the middle of the bus and saw the masked man. He gave a small wave, face permanently twisted into that hideous grin.  
  
Vanhorn's voice thickened through tears. "I did love him, Ethan. I did, but . . . but I violated that child, my own blood nephew . . . I hurt him in ways no child should be hurt."  
  
 _'So . . . that's why you've kept Leland Vanhorn alive.'  
  
_ Ethan drew a breath, but his body would not still. He knew this feeling, and could no longer deny it.  
  
 _'The lure of the forbidden,'_ the demonic presence said. _'Leland is handsome, deliciously evil . . . Execution would be fitting, but what fun is there in death? It would be so much more pleasing--'_ The figure hit the back of a chair. _'--to punish him.'_  
  
Ethan turned away from him.  
  
"I hated myself," Vanhorn's voice droned on through the phone. "Seeing Leland the next morning, so battered he couldn't walk, I decided he would be better off without me. I thought I could not trust him, but it was me who was untrustworthy. I went to kill myself, but I couldn't go through with it. I wasn't strong enough. And the worse part of it was that I knew it would not end there. It will never end, until one or both of us are dead. The damage is too great."  
  
"If you know that, then why didn't you let me kill Leland?" Ethan asked. "Why not just let me put him out of his misery?"  
  
"I don't want him to be the one to pay for my sins."  
  
"Yeah, but he was never innocent, either."  
  
"Maybe not, but I owe him as much as to keep him alive. That is why I turned to you."  
  
"Me? What do you want from me?"  
  
"I want you to take care of Leland."  
  
"Whoa, wait a minute here, this is a grown man we're talking about," Ethan said incredulously. "You made his life hell, okay, but he was cruel to begin with. They shoot mad dogs, you know."  
  
"He isn't an animal," Vanhorn said softly. "He's a man. He's a broken, ruined man."  
  
"Listen, there's only so far you can go for a person," Ethan argued. "He doesn't _want_ to change. He's _happy_ the way he is. He deserves to pay for that evil."  
  
"Then punish him."  
  
Ethan shut his eyes. "That isn't what I meant."  
  
 _'Yes it is.'_  
  
"I would rather he suffer than be killed," Vanhorn said. "And I would rather he suffer at your hand than at mine."  
  
 _'Don't be such a hypocrite,'_ the masked man said, coming up behind Ethan. _'You've kicked his ass several times by now, and you know how good it felt every single time. The way he flinches, taking it with silent resign. Your fist digging into his body, breaking him down, crushing him. He isn't an animal or a demon or anything else. He's a man. He's_ _ **just**_ _a man. Doesn't it feel good to be the stronger man, the better man?'_  
  
"I'm going to tell you the truth, give you your power," Vanhorn said. "You won't ever have to fear Leland again."  
  
 _'How would it feel to see him totally defeated?'_ the antagonistic hallucination went on. _'To break him so fully that he has nothing left? He pushed you to the very edge, didn't he? Always so belittling and arrogant . . . Wouldn't it be fun to see him humiliated? You never pleaded for your life, never yelled for him to stop-- do you think he would? Do you think you could break him more than he broke you?'_  
  
"So please, Ethan. Spare his life just one more time."  
  
 _'Unless . . . you feel sorry for him?'_  
  
Everything was spinning. Ethan blinked his eyes, shaking his head.  
  
"Ethan? Ethan."  
  
When he looked up again, he was on the full bus. "Yeah?"  
  
"Did you hear me?"  
  
"I'll try. No promises."  
  
He hung up the phone and looked out. They were just outside the park. He pulled himself out of the seat and staggered off the bus. The police and agents were out in their rain gear, concentrated at the gardens. He met LeRue at the crime scene.  
  
"Hey, Agent Thomas, good to have you on this."  
  
"Where's your almighty boss?"  
  
"Dorland? Don't know," LeRue replied. "He's been gone since this morning."  
  
"Good." Ethan came over to the body. "Let's see what we got . . . "  
  
The female mayor was knelt before the entrance to the hedge maze garden, head completely missing. Ethan sent the images to Rosa.  
  
"Definitely not enough blood for this to be the crime scene," she said. "Can you get a closer shot of her actual neck?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
"Hmm . . . the vocal cords have been ripped out, and not just with the head, separately, deliberately," Rosa observed.  
  
"Hey, Agent Thomas? You should take a look at this."  
  
LeRue was kneeling beside the hedges, pushing some branches aside. He picked up a paper and bagged it, then handed it to Ethan. The moment he saw the paper, a chill went through his body.  
  
"It was him."  
  
"Who?" LeRue asked.  
  
"Serial Killer X?" Rosa said. "Are you sure? Send me a photo of that paper, would you?"  
  
He sent it, saying, "I've seen these eyes drawn out before, they're part of Leland's psycho-scribbles."  
  
"Why would SKX kill the mayor, though?" Rosa said thoughtfully. "I thought his target was other serial killers?"  
  
"I don't know, but I'll get it out of him," Ethan said. He took out his UV Light and examined the area. "First thing's first: finding him."  
  
There were traces of blood leading into the hedge maze. "I'm going to follow this," Ethan said. "LeRue, we'll need aerial support, someone that can get men down fast if I need back-up."  
  
"You sure you don't want to go on the chopper? You're not just going to go in there alone?"  
  
"Yeah, I am."  
  
"You're a crazy guy, Agent Thomas," LeRue said, shaking his head. "Okay, I'll go with the helicopter. Keep your communication lines open. If you need anything, just say the word."  
  
"Got it. Thanks."  
  
"Good luck."  
  
Ethan shook his hand, and then went in. The ground was soggy and smelled of earth; it was a rare smell to find in Metro City. The rain had let up, but it was still dark.  
  
 _What are you up to now, Leland?_ Ethan wondered. _You're baiting me, aren't you?_  
  
Even his GPS unit offered little help in the maze; he was forced to wander with only sporadic traces of blood to guide him.  
  
Nothing could be easy in the city, not even a walk in the park. The random junkies and subhuman creatures came crawling out of the hedges, violent and wild. Ethan was grateful to have his gun, emptying it quickly in the attacks. Once his bullets were out, his fists and stun gun had to do.  
  
 _How big is this fucking maze?_ Ethan wondered, hot and wet and tired. He angrily pushed aside branches, looking at his GPS again. _It's like some stupid horror movie._  
  
His phone bleeped and he opened it. "Rosa, got anything yet?"  
  
A distinctly male voice replied in a singsong tone, "No--- Not quite."  
  
Ethan stopped dead in his tracks. "Leland?"  
  
"Aha ha ha. You're getting quicker, Mr. Thomas."  
  
Ethan looked around in alarm. "How did you get on this line? Where are you?"  
  
"I acquired the SCU line through a phone belonging to an agent. Oh, what was his name? Let's see." A pause. "Ahh, kindly Agent Dawson. Yes. He parted with it rather easily . . . along with the rest of his hand."  
  
"You sick bastard."  
  
"He shouldn't have followed me now, should he?" Leland replied. "After all, not everyone can go it alone as well as you do. It isn't very fair, is it? Genetics never are."  
  
"Why did you kill the mayor?"  
  
"You don't want me to simply _tell_ you, Mr. Thomas. That would take all the fun out of it. I wouldn't want to ruin your little forensics games with Ms. Angel. Oh, and speaking of _her_ . . . exactly what kind of forensics were you studying at her apartment all night? It must have been a fascinating case. Did it involve me?"  
  
 _He was watching me. Damn him. He's always fucking watching me._  
  
"Why did you call?"  
  
"Can't I just say 'hi'? Well, honestly, I did want to thank you for last night. You were all too eager to lap up that pitiful bit of history of mine. And, dare I say it made you go soft? Ha ha ha. Am I growing on you, Thomas?"  
  
"That wasn't a ploy, and you know it," Ethan said. "I talked to your uncle, and he told me everything."  
  
A long pause, then a muffled, very short laugh. "Hehe. Did he now?"  
  
"Yeah, and you know what?"  
  
"What?" Leland asked lazily.  
  
"I don't feel sorry for you. You were a killer before he ever laid a finger on you. Yeah, it's fucked up that he raped you, but guess what? You pushed him to it."  
  
"You're saying it was my fault?"  
  
"Yeah, I am."  
  
"No, I don't believe that," Leland said cleverly. "You're trying to goad me into a confrontation, aren't you? Your tactics have gotten painfully obvious, Mr. Thomas."  
  
 _. . . I didn't think it was_ _ **that**_ _obvious. Maybe he's just gotten smarter,_ Ethan thought. He had another plan, however: if Leland stayed on the phone for five minutes, he could have Rosa trace back the call, and learn of his whereabouts.  
  
"Even you would not blame a sickly little boy for his uncle's unspeakable crimes against him."  
  
"Hold on. Sick?"  
  
"Did dear Uncle Malcolm fail to mention it? Funny, how he always manages to find some way to make me seem less disgustingly weak than I actually was. Not only was I his blood nephew, not only was I a child, not only was I 'influenced', as he believes, but I was ill throughout my entire childhood."  
  
"With what?"  
  
"Who knows? I . . . Let's say I broke easily. I was thin, my bones were susceptible to breakage. I spent so many days already in pain . . . That is the reason I was mostly at home."  
  
"How did you get cured?"  
  
"I grew out of it. Although, my bones do tend to break with considerably less effort than usual . . . "  
  
"Good. That'll make it easier to kick your ass _again_ when I find you."  
  
"You might think so." There was a clicking sound. "But you know, good Agent Dawson didn't only leave me his phone."  
  
 _Great. Now he's armed._ _I still have to find him. Keep talking, Thomas, keep him on the line._  
  
"I found your little piece of artwork," Ethan said, bringing up the picture on his camera. "Aren't you a little too old for that kind of thing?"  
  
"Boredom is a funny thing. I'm sure you've regressed to old habits while suffering through tedium, Mr. Thomas."  
  
"Why the eyes? Is it the Oro?"  
  
There was a tense moment of silence. " . . . Who gave you that name?"  
  
"Vanhorn."  
  
"So, he plans to tell you, does he?" Leland said softly. "If you harness your power, it will be easy for you to retrieve me for him. Do you realize what he intends to do with you? Have you at his beck and call to 'handle' me when necessary? It won't end, you know, Thomas, and he won't let you kill me, either."  
  
"That isn't his decision to make."  
  
"You kill me, and I assure you that my uncle will kill you."  
  
Ethan knew he was right, and cursed Malcolm Vanhorn in his mind. _They just trapped me in the middle of this sick family drama. I can't believe my life has gotten to this point, where I'm running blindly from one Vanhorn to another, trying to figure out what the hell_ _ **I**_ _even want anymore._  
  
"I still don't get why I'm involved in all this shit," Ethan told Leland. "This power of sound the Oro cult is based on, I have it, right?"  
  
"Yes, you do."  
  
"Is that jealousy?"  
  
"Impatience. I have better things to do than chit-chat with you all day."  
  
Ethan heard a shuffling sound. "Leland? . . . _Leland_? Hey! Damn it, he hung up. Just great."  
  
He got Rosa on the line and asked her to trace back his last call. She did, and had the location sent to his GPS. _He's in the hedge maze, on the opposite end. If he hasn't run off again,that conniving asshole.  
  
_ The rain burst into a downpour as he came through the garden maze at last. Winding around the janitor's shed, he grabbed a 2x4 plank from the small pile of maintenance junk. Crouching beneath the window of the shed, he turned on the UV Light, and saw there was a thick concentration of blood by the entrance. _This is the murder scene. He's got to be here._  
  
The ground was soft, and the squish of a step alerted Ethan. He sprung to his feet and turned in time to see Leland swinging a shovel at him. He managed to block, but it still hurt.  
  
"You can't simply let me go about my business in peace, can you?" Leland asked angrily, swinging at him again. "You just have to interfere, like my fastidious uncle."  
  
He kept hitting him until Ethan grabbed the shovel. They wrestled with it, and Ethan was able to throw him off it. Leland stumbled aside and made a run for it. Ethan threw the shovel--it hit him, knocking him off balance. Ethan took the opportunity to pick the board back up and tackle him to the muddy ground.  
  
Leland grunted angrily as he struggled, but Ethan was strong. The hard year since their first confrontation had taken its toll, giving him the edge of any tough guy on the streets. He wasted no time in beating Leland with the 2x4, his midsection and face and arms. Leland had been running around since escaping without sleep, still in the cut-up strait jacket and barefoot; he was not in any condition to fight anyone, let alone Ethan Thomas.  
  
 _I can't help but wonder why he didn't shoot me when he had the chance,_ Ethan thought as he attacked the man. _I know he had a gun from the agent he killed. Why use the shovel? Was he . . . trying to keep me alive?_  
  
"Aaaggh! That's enough!" Leland shouted. He writhed a bit longer, then managed to move enough to knee Ethan in the stomach. "Get off of me!"  
  
"No. _NO_!"  
  
They tumbled back and forth, fighting desperately for the upper hand.  
  
"You're not getting away. Not this time!"  
  
"Ungh!"  
  
Ethan struck him across the back of his neck. It nearly knocked him out, and his body stilled with dizziness. Ethan pulled his arms behind his back and held them there, looking around for something to bind him with.  
  
"You're a fool, a fool and a puppet," Leland said, speech a touch slurred. He shook his head, wet light brown hair falling limply in his face. "You must want to carry out my sick uncle's wishes."  
  
"I want to shut you UP!"  
  
Ethan struck him hard on the back. He wondered why SCU agents didn't carry handcuffs, and finally removed his belt. For just a moment, his eyes wandered the man's body, and that feeling permeated his body. Leland must have sensed something, and he looked over his shoulder. He caught the look in Ethan's eyes, and a scowl overtook his face, giving him a brutish look.  
  
"You--"  
  
"What?' Ethan used the belt to bind his arms behind his back tightly. "What? You think I'd just leave you loose to do whatever you want? Huh?" He climbed off of Leland and stood. He looked down at the killer, and turned him over with his boot.  
  
Leland stared up at him, mildly impressed. "Hmph. You really are different."  
  
Ethan dug his boot into Leland's shoulder to keep him in place. Ignoring the comment, he got Rosa on the line, then LeRue.  
  
"I remember our first meeting a year ago. You went down so easily," Leland went on. "I recall the terror in your eyes, the confusion. You may still be rather lost in all this, but you've changed. The streets, the city . . . it gets inside you, doesn't it?"  
  
Ethan rubbed his head. He would have killed for a drink.  
  
"I remember breaking away from my overprotective uncle for the first time, living on the streets," Leland said. "It strips away the frivolities of human morality and pretenses. The guttural honesty of it . . . I don't know about you, but I found it remarkably refreshing."  
  
Ethan looked down at him. "You lived on the streets?"  
  
"Yes. Frequenting the slums, bars . . . like you've taken to doing, actually." Leland grinned a ghastly grin. "The fights, the whispers and myths . . . so much truth, disguised in the darkness of filth and decay. I like it very much. Although, it was rather lonely, having to read about the killers and crimes. Then, I found _you_."  
  
Ethan took his foot off of him and knelt beside him again. "You've got quite a love affair going on in that head of yours--" Ethan tapped his forehead. "--and I don't like it."  
  
Leland tried to sit up, but between the bruises and bound arms, could not. He sighed, looking bored. "Likewise, Mr. Thomas."  
  
"Why the obsession with me?"  
  
"You were a useful tool, that's all."  
  
"No, it's more than that. You've been following me through Vanhorn for years, and then you found me, stalked me. You're _still_ stalking me."  
  
"You . . . interest me. Not _you_ personally," Leland said hastily. His eyes went to Ethan's neck. "All of you, the ones with that power. Those vocal cords that can shatter physical matter. Siren, you, my uncle . . . "  
  
"Vocal cords?" Ethan sat him up, held him there. "The mayor's vocal cords were missing. Where are they?"  
  
Leland nodded in the direction of the gardener's shed.  
  
"She was one of them, wasn't she?"  
  
"Perhaps."  
  
"The Oro have people on that level in their cult?"  
  
 _It's starting to come together now. The darkness coming over the city, the manipulators and watchers . . . They're here, aren't they? Watching . . ._  
  
Overhead, the helicopter hovered. They threw down a rope ladder, telling Ethan to bring Leland up with him. Leland jostled him to his feet, and Leland jerked away.  
  
"Stop playing games," Ethan demanded. "Let's _go_."  
  
Rosa came on the phone suddenly. "Ethan? You there? Listen, I got Vanhorn's location. You can head out after bringing in SKX."  
  
"Thanks, Rosa," Ethan said, although he was barely paying attention. Leland's eyes glimmered, and the look worried him. He struck the man across the face, bruising him. "Let's go."  
  
Ethan had to support him as they climbed up the flimsy ladder. The closeness was disturbing, especially since Leland seemed intrigued by it.  
  
"He wants your help, doesn't he? He wants you to protect him from me," Leland said. "Do you get off on it, too, Thomas?" He leaned close to Ethan's ear. "Does it turn you on to beat me down? To be the victor? Hmm?"  
  
He knew Ethan could not strike him on the ladder, and grinned widely as the man scowled.  
  
"I still need you, that's why I haven't ended your miserable life yet," Leland explained. "But you, why do _you_ keep _me_ alive? It isn't just for my uncle, is it? You still want something from me, don't you? What is it, Thomas? What exactly do you want me f--"  
  
He slipped, almost falling. Ethan grabbed him, pulled him close instinctively. Holding the man tight to his chest, their eyes met. Leland smirked smugly, knowing his words had hit their mark.  
  
"Shut up,"Ethan hissed at him, "or I'll drop you, shithead."  
  
"You won't."  
  
Ethan pushed him up the ladder roughly. "Go. Fucking _go_." He shoved the man upwards, gave him a punch in the lower back.  
  
Leland glanced around and kicked his face with his bare, muddy foot. Ethan cursed him, but could do little about it. Once they got up to the helicopter, Ethan threw the man across the floor, into a wall.  
  
LeRue looked at SKX, then at Ethan. "This him?"  
  
"Yeah, Leland Vanhorn himself," Ethan said. He grabbed Leland by the hair aggressively. "Say 'hi', Leland."  
  
"Ngh."  
  
"Ease up, Thomas." Dorland came up and pushed Ethan off of Leland.  
  
"You're sympathizing with this scumbag?"  
  
"Unlike some people, I still believe in policy." Dorland glanced at Leland. "Sit down."  
  
Ethan turned to Leland, expecting him to come up with some biting retort and show defiance. To his dismay, Leland actually slumped to the helicopter floor, obedient as a loyal dog. His eyes were sparking with the same intense jealousy that he normally reserved for Ethan and his uncle.  
  
 _Dorland. He's one of the Oro,_ Ethan realized. _No wonder he wants me dead._  
  
"We picked up Dorland before you," LeRue explained. "He was looking for the crime scene, but forensics can wait now that we've got our killer."  
  
Leland was calm as he sat watching the agents, much to Ethan's anxiety. He didn't dare question him in front of the others, and Leland was too smart to make conversation.


	6. Chapter 6

Ethan left SKX to the agents once he arrived at the bureau. Although Malcolm Vanhorn was no longer in danger, he was eager to get the answers he had promised. Rosa met him in the hall, watching Leland as he was escorted by. Leland gave them both a collected, placid smile.  
  
"He's so chilling,"Rosa commented. "Hard to believe he's a victim."  
  
"He's not a victim," Ethan said. "Maybe he _was_ at some point, but not anymore."  
  
"In any case, there's a small plane waiting for you at the air strip," Rosa said. "They'll be ready in about half an hour."  
  
"Half an hour?"  
  
"The weather."  
  
"Okay, okay. I'm gonna go to the locker rooms, shower, get a drink."  
  
Rosa nodded, and they parted ways. She watched him go down the hall, musing at how little he looked like an agent these days. _Poor guy's been through hell and back. I hope he finds what he's looking for. But every time he finds a new truth, it only seems to get worse for him.  
  
I wonder if there even is any comprehensible answer to what's going . . . _  
  
In the room just a few doors down, Dorland was alone with Leland. LeRue waited outside, guarding the door. Unknown to LeRue, no one was in the observation area, and the microphone in the interrogation room was turned off. Dorland had Leland off the record and all to himself.  
  
"We don't normally bother with defects and riffraff," Dorland was saying, "but you've been pushing for a while." He slammed both hands on the table in front of Leland, leaning obnoxiously close to him. "You have to expect us to start pushing back."  
  
Leland turned his face sullenly. He knew Dorland held a lot of influence within the Oro, and getting into it with him would not be worth the risk. _Smug bastards. How they patrol the city as if it's theirs. Not just Metro City, either. They want this country, and they all but have it. But why wouldn't they? This man right here could kill me inside of a few seconds with that invisible force. No fighting back. Nothing. Just dead._  
  
 _God, I want that power!_  
  
"You want to study us, don't you?" Dorland went on, pacing with his hands behind his back. "That's why you tore apart the mayor, took the metal pieces and her vocal cords. You can study it all you want to, Leland. The genuine power will never be yours."  
  
"It wasn't yours, either," Leland shot back. "Not to begin with. Don't think I didn't notice how your neck is always covered. You've been _given_ the power. They can manufacture it now."  
  
"Nonetheless, it would never be given to the child of traitors," Dorland sneered. "You lost your right to it the moment your uncle stole you away."  
  
"You think I don't know that?" Leland said bitterly. "But I can earn a place. Let me help you."  
  
"We don't need help from a worthless piece of trash like you."  
  
"I'm the only one that can get to Thomas," Leland said defensively. "You know I am."  
  
Dorland blew out a frustrated sigh. He looked down at the captured murderer with shrewd eyes. Leland's heart skipped a beat. Maybe there was a chance after all.

"You and Thomas do have a strange kind of closeness,” Dorland admitted grudgingly. “You could get to him and your uncle, take care of two birds with one dirty stone."  
  
"Exactly." _Although I am hardly a dirty stone, you prick._  
  
"The mayor was a sentimental fool, wanting to keep Thomas alive, harness his power," Dorland said. "The selfish bitch probably wanted his power for her own use, just like Farrell. They're too blinded by their greed to see that Thomas would destroy us if he ever came into his own. You know more than anyone how uncontrollable he is."  
  
"Did you know my uncle intends to teach him to use his power? Today, no less?"  
  
“ _What_?” Dorland asked sharply.  
  
"Thomas is going to fly out to my uncle's property in the mountains, and my uncle plans to divulge all the secrets he knows."  
  
"Damn. We can't make it out there before Thomas, what with all the goddamn red tape, Farrell--"  
  
"I can stop him."  
  
Dorland frowned.  
  
"Let me out of here," Leland pleaded. "I'll go on the plane waiting for Thomas. I'll take care of them both out there. I'm already a serial killer. There isn't any reason for you agents to dirty your hands."  
  
"And your price for this assistance?"  
  
"I think you know." Leland smiled. "I want it. I want the birthright that was stolen from me."  
  
"Induction into the Oro." Dorland considered for a long moment. “All right, Leland. If you can rid us of the cancer Rememdium and that meddling uncle of yours, we will induct you.”  
  
Leland lifted his head triumphantly.  
  
"But if you fail, you're going to be locked up for life, do you understand?"  
  
"Perfectly, Agent Dorland."  
  
"Come on."  
  
Dorland grabbed him by the arm and pulled him out. Leland despised being led around like an unruly animal, but it was worth it. Dorland convinced LeRue to go work on filing a report, and led Leland to the holding area alone. He untied Leland and sneaked him out the deserted back halls of the bureau building. Outside, he gave Leland a shove towards the air strip. "You're on your own, SKX."  
  
Leland found the plane and climbed on board. There, he hunched in the back, hidden in the shadows among the parachute bags, and waited. The metal floor was hard, but it was a relief to be off his feet. He partially lay down, head propped up on a parachute, and his eyes began to close.  
  
He wafted out of reality and back to the house he was raised in, outside the city limits. He felt weak again, even in his strong adult body, as he walked through the house in a haze. In the living room, he saw a painfully thin youth standing stiffly in the center of the room. He turned around and looked up with frightened eyes.  
  
"No, not you," Leland muttered. "You're gone, kid. Gone. Leave me alone."  
  
The boy didn't say anything, turning his face. The scene flickered, and they were in Leland's old room. The wall was covered with drawings of eyes and random words and passages. The boy was sitting on the bed, hugging his knees, one foot in a cast. So many days he had spent healing at home, unable to go anywhere, just staring out into the nothing outside. Time had felt unreal back then, too slow to be passing, and the stillness gave his mind too much freedom to turn things over. Though he looked blank, anger had been rippling through him deep inside, and a pain that he still could not seem to rid himself of.  
  
Adult Leland turned his face. "Go away. _Go away_."  
  
 _'Why do you hurt me?'_  
  
Leland looked up, and saw his uncle was in the door frame. The little boy was talking to him.  
  
 _'I never meant to hurt you.'_  
  
 _'Yes you did.'_ The child looked over at Malcolm with dark eyes. _'You did.'  
  
'The Oro's influence has extended its reach. I . . . thought I was stronger--'_  
  
"No, no, that's a lie," the adult Leland said. "Their manipulation can exaggerate tendencies, but not _create_ them. I looked to see if your excuses held any water, but they don't. They . . . They **don't**."  
  
He realized that as he spoke, the little boy echoed his words. "No, no! Shut up! You don't exist anymore!" he yelled, words not mimicked by the child this time. "I killed you."  
  
 _'Leland, what can I do? What can I say? Apologies would never be enough.'_  
  
"You can _give_ me something," Leland told him, both the adult and child Lelands. "I want your blood, old man. It's taken me long enough as it is."  
  
For the first time, Malcolm turned his eyes to his adult nephew. The scene flickered again, fading to black and white, and then returned. They were at the mountain cabin Malcolm owned and had sometimes brought Leland to for vacations.  
  
"Would my death appease you, Leland?" Malcolm asked. "Can anything satiate your murderous hunger?"  
  
"No, only death will do. I have nothing else to live for," Leland replied. "But it would quench my thirst for revenge."  
  
"I always knew, from the moment I defiled you that night, that it would end by your hand," Vanhorn said. "But I wouldn't let you kill me, not while you still needed me."  
  
"I never needed you," scowled Leland. "You're the one who needed me. You needed to believe there was someone in this world that gave a damn, someone that gave your life purpose. So you used me. You used me to placate the anger and loneliness of being left behind by the Oro. I was just a filthy tool you used to justify your pathetic life."  
  
"I loved you, Leland. I still do."  
  
"And you hate me."  
  
"No. Even in my darkest moments, even when I wanted to hurt you, I never once hated you."  
  
Leland searched his eyes, and could see no lies. His heart clenched inside his chest for just the barest instant. Then he hardened himself to the old man's words.

"Don't think believing that will make me sympathetic," he said. "I hate you. I'll never feel anything but disgust when I look at you."  
  
"I deserve as much," Vanhorn said ruefully. "I deserve whatever you do to me."  
  
Leland crossed his arms. "Good. Then, you'll be an easy target."  
  
"I'm afraid not," Vanhorn said, shaking his head. "You know of my cowardice. I'm sorry, but I do not want to die, and my . . . my selfish side won't let you kill me."  
  
"Neither side of you is going to have a choice when I slit you open from top to bottom," Leland said viciously. "No will or influence is stronger than mine. I'm going to tear you to pieces."  
  
"I have no doubt you will try," Vanhorn said. "I hate it to come to this point, but . . . At least, if I do lose, if I do _die,_ I know you won't be left to waste away alone."  
  
"What does that mean?"  
  
"I think you know."  
  
"Oh, you mean your protege, Ethan Thomas?" Leland scoffed. "You've intended for him to take your place from the beginning, haven't you? Then you can rest in peace, knowing I'll be kept alive and tortured."  
  
"No, Leland--"  
  
"Yes!" Leland snapped. "That's all you want for me, to be kept caged and beaten like an animal. You grew too old, and I grew too strong, for our little game to continue. You couldn't stand it when I became healthy and whole and _better_ than you. So you found someone stronger than yourself, stronger than me."  
  
"I only want you cared for, Leland, by someone," Vanhorn said. "You shun the entire world, and then wonder why you're alone. You shut out every last ray of light, then wonder why you're in the dark. You need someone, don't you see that? You and I, and Ethan, we are all so wrecked by the Oro . . . we will never be whole. But at least we can _survive_ , together."  
  
"You're not listening!" growled Leland. "I don't need help! I don't _want_ help!"  
  
"Maybe Ethan can tame you."  
  
"Are you insane?" Leland laughed, partly anxious and partly indignant. "Tame _me_? I'm not an animal, damn it! Nor am I the monster you make me out to be. What is wrong with my life? What? I am as righteous as Ethan."  
  
Vanhorn gave him a pitying look.  
  
"I **am** ," Leland repeated angrily. "Before, there were measures I would take that he would not, but how much longer do you think those morals and rules will hold? In only a year, he's stained his hands with the blood the city bleeds. He enjoys it, I've seen that in his eyes. Do you really think he will be able to deny it forever?"  
  
"It is a fine line, but I believe Ethan is capable of walking it. At least, he will manage better than I did."  
  
"He will kill me, unless I kill him," Leland said. "Are you so deluded that you are blind to the truth? Ethan and I would spiral into the same sadistic pattern you and I did, only worse. I am not a weak child; we are two grown, strong men that hate one another. We could spend weeks, maybe years, decades, going back and forth hurting each other in all the ways humans can be hurt, and it would still end the same: one of us will murder the other."  
  
"Then, the odds are the same as with you and I, aren't they?"  
  
Leland sighed, shoulders sagging. Trying to reason with his idiotic uncle always wore him out. If this weren't some sort of dream or hallucinatory state, he would attack him. Instead, he held his own head in both hands, staving off a headache.  
  
"You just don't get it," Leland said in exasperation. "You never did. You never will. There are no happy endings here. Why are you so stupid? Why?"  
  
"Leland--"  
  
Vanhorn reached out to touch his shoulder. Leland swung at him.

"Don't touch me! Don't--" He looked around, as the imagery began to blur. Somewhere in the trees, he saw his child self staring at him. "No, leave me alone, both of you! Go away!"  
  
Everything blacked out, and he awoke to a thud. Opening his eyes, he found himself on the floor of the plane, collapsed on the metal floor. He had fallen off the parachute bags as they had taken off. Rubbing his eyes, the man sat up, embarrassed of having succumbed to a mere nightmare. He sat against the wall, exhaling softly. It would all be over soon, he told himself. Just as soon as he found his uncle . . .


	7. Chapter 7

In the front of the plane, Ethan dozed off. Before boarding, he had downed as much alcohol as he could, knowing there was a lot of difficulty up ahead.  
  
 _'You fear the truth, don't you?'_  
  
Ethan opened his eyes and found the masked demon in the pilot's chair. He sat up with a start, looking around. The real pilot was nowhere to be seen.  
  
 _'You aren't a stupid man,'_ he went on. _'I'm sure you've figured it out by now. What they are. What_ _ **you**_ _are.'  
  
_ "No. No, I . . . "  
  
 _'Yes._ _ **Yes**_ _.'_ The masked demon came around beside Ethan and turned his face to look at him. His hand was cold, corpse-like, and felt less than real. _'Remember the X-Rays taken last year? The vocal cords blacked out, the unusually high bone density? Your parents knowing Malcolm Vanhorn? Leland's fascination and Dorland's hatred, the link you have to them, the things you see . . . You know it. You know what is causing these things.'_  
  
"I'm not," Ethan said, pushing him away. "No. No! Don't say it! I'm not one of them!"  
  
 _'You can't run from it forever. Unless you want to try?'_  
  
The demon leaned his arm on the wheel, and the plane began to decline.  
  
 _'It could end right now, you know. What chance is this? The fourth, fifth? Leland is in the back of the plane, you know.'_  
  
" _What_?" Ethan exclaimed, glancing at the cockpit door. “He's fucking _here_?”  
  
 _'You won't ever have to face the ugly truth, and you'll have ended Serial Killer X, as well. How about it, Ethan?'_  
  
Ethan hesitated, watching the plane dip into oblivion.  
  
 _'Two birds with one stone.'_  
  
"NO!"  
  
Ethan woke up with a start. To his horror, the pilot was dead. The auto-pilot was on, but the fuel was unnaturally low. He barged into the small cargo storage in the back. Surely enough, Leland was sitting on the floor. The criminal looked up at him in shock, jaw dropping slightly.  
  
"Well, Mr. Thomas," he finally remarked, sounding shaken. He got to his feet slowly. "How did you know?"  
  
Ethan advanced on him, and he stepped back. _I'm going to die, anyway. Why deny myself the pleasure of finally ending this fucking asshole?_  
  
"Mr. Thomas?"  
  
Ethan lunged at him. Leland caught him but the force sent him sprawling to the floor. Ethan climbed on top of him, reaching for his throat. They struggled violently. Ethan fought like a man possessed, completely immune to every blow Leland threw. Leland cried out sharply as he felt a rib break, his efforts paused as he clutched his side.  
  
"What the hell is the matter with you?" he asked angrily, voice rough with pain. "Are you trying to kill me?"  
  
"Yeah. I am."  
  
For the first time, Ethan saw terror flash through Leland's eyes. The man tried unsuccessfully to heave him off. Ethan sat over him, holding his arm over his throat. He leaned his face down, closer to Leland's. They glared at one another with near equal fury.  
  
"The pilot's dead," Ethan told him. "We have minutes to jump off. But guess what?"  
  
Leland winced as he crushed his throat with his brawny arm.  
  
"I'm not letting you go. Not this time. You're going to die right here, right now."  
  
“So, is this what it comes down to?” Leland said hoarsely, struggling futilely. “This is it?"  
  
Ethan pressed his arm harder into the man's neck. Leland's legs kicked, bare feet banging on the floor.  
  
"You . . . You said you wouldn't stop me."  
  
Ethan eyed him.  
  
"You said if it was true, you wouldn't stop me!" Leland yelled. "You said you'd let me kill my uncle."  
  
Ethan shook his head. "If I let you go, I might never catch you again. So many more will die--"  
  
"Cultists and serial killers? Do you really, honestly care? Do you?"  
  
"No! But I'm not going to deal with it!" Ethan said, wrapping his hands around Leland's neck. "I'm not going to keep playing your twisted games, you fucking freak! I'm done! I can't do it anymore!"  
  
Leland coughed and hit his arms, to no avail. "I knew it would be-- be like this," he said as he choked. "I told my uncle you'd-- Ha . . . ha ha . . . I knew it. I--” He coughed. “I knew it would . . . "  
  
Ethan frowned as the space darkened. Time seemed to slow. His grip tightened, a wave of satisfaction washing over him as Leland strangled in his hands. A strange static sound filled his ears, visual noise obscured his vision. He looked up, and saw a child watching them. Leland.  
  
Voices rang through his head in a muddled confusion.  
  
 _'Why do you make me hurt you, Leland? Why can't you just do what you're told?'_  
  
 _'The truth is we hate each other, and always have.'_  
  
 _'I was a child. I didn't do anything to deserve everything he did to me, not back then.'  
  
'How can you tell? Are you sure he wasn't just playing you?'_  
  
 _'He wouldn't do that. He's not the type to make up stories for sympathy. He just burst out with it-- I don't think he even meant to.'_  
  
 _'That's sad.'_  
  
He thought of the pity in Rosa's eyes. Why wasn't he capable of feeling it? It was normal for a human being to feel empathy in the face of another person's suffering, wasn't it? Even to sympathize with a scumbag like this? So why couldn't he?  
  
Leland gave up the struggle. His expression was stricken, far more vulnerable than Ethan thought he could be. Despite his self-proclaimed knowledge of how it would end, there was surprise in his eyes. Had a part of him actually hoped something would stop Ethan?  
  
Something . . . What?  
  
 _'I_ _ **did**_ _love him, Ethan.'_  
  
 _' . . . I lost all control, I just wanted to hurt him. I . . . I enjoyed hurting him.'_  
  
 _'I know that feeling.'_  
  
 _'That finally broke him. I felt . . . relieved . . . to see him emote. It was good to know he was capable of crying, that he was still human in some way. He was fragile, suddenly, and so young . . . I wanted to comfort him, but I also wanted to keep . . . And that voice inside me, crawling in me, controlling my mind . . . '  
  
'I did love him, Ethan. I did, but . . . but I violated that child, my own blood nephew . . . I hurt him in ways no child should be hurt.'_  
  
Ethan's mind was whirling. His hands shook around Leland's warm, soft throat. He broke out into a cold sweat as the dam holding back his feelings crashed inwards. At last, he released the killer.  
  
Leland gasped for air, clutching his neck. Ethan remained atop him as he writhed beneath his legs. He watched dully as Serial Killer X sputtered for air, jerking spasmodically.  
  
"You're weak."  
  
Ethan met his gaze blankly.  
  
"You couldn't do it."  
  
Ethan's fists curled. Although most of his energy was spent, he mustered enough force to pummel the spiteful man. Leland did not fight back, still dazed from being without air so long. Ethan's fists crashed into his body over and over, sending pain shooting through him. He stood and lifted him to his feet, then slammed him against the wall and continued to pound him. Leland did not make a sound, taking the pain with sullen resignation.  
  
Finally, Ethan threw him aside. Leland propped himself up on hand and knee, unable to get up any more than that. The taste of blood filled his mouth, his face was swollen with bruises. He stared at the blood dripping onto the floor, at his shaking, dirty hands. Then, he looked up at Ethan.  
  
"We're declining-- We're going to crash."  
  
"I don't care."  
  
Ethan knelt before him, gripping a handful of his hair in one hand.  
  
"Why didn't you kill me?" Leland asked, accusatory. "Why?"  
  
Ethan could see his other self, leaning casually against the back wall. He said nothing this time. He didn't have to.  
  
Ethan didn't realize he had moved until he could taste Leland. Still holding him by the hair, he kissed him aggressively, blood filling his own mouth. Leland made a sound of protest, but he firmly held him place, exploring his mouth with his tongue, sickened and aroused at once.  
  
They slid across the steeply angled floor, falling against the back wall in a heap together. Leland's mouth slipped from Ethan's. Sheer panic widened his eyes, gave his face a sheen of sweat.  
  
"We're going to crash!" Leland cried out. “Ethan!”  
  
Ethan had him in his arms now, eerily calm. The tension between them was as heavy as the gravity bringing the plane down. Leland frowned deeply, confused beyond words. He didn't know whether he even wanted to save himself. He didn't know whether he hated Ethan or wanted him, or both. No one had ever kissed him. Not once. Not even his uncle, not like that. The ridiculousness of it being Ethan almost made him want to laugh . . . or cry.  
  
"We're not going to die,” Ethan said quietly. “Not like this."  
  
Leland should have called him a fool, tried to fight him off and get out of the plane while he could. But he didn't. Somehow, he believed him.  
  
Then, everything exploded.


	8. Chapter 8

Ethan awoke in the snow, alone, his head aching viciously. He staggered to his feet, rubbing his temples. Up ahead, he could see the burning wreckage of the plane. He blankly stumbled over to go through the debris. He found the pilot's body, but Leland was gone. There was a trail of dirty footprints leading away from the scene.  
  
 _I don't know whether I'm relieved or disappointed. That fucking idiot._  
  
Ethan leaned against a pine tree, staring into the sky. Snow was falling lightly. The forest was as silent as the dancing descent of the flakes. In the distance, he could see the serenely still mountains.  
  
 _I kissed him, didn't I? Did I actually kiss him? What the hell is wrong with me?_  
  
Ethan punched the tree behind him, shutting his eyes wearily. _I don't even recognize myself. It's like Vanhorn said, something gets inside you, changes you. But he's wrong. It isn't like being possessed by someone else. It's like being possessed by yourself._ _ **I**_ _wanted him._ _ **I**_ _kissed him. The influence just makes you give in to what you already want, it eradicates the barriers we keep up, those rules that humans impose on themselves to keep themselves normal, to keep themselves sane.  
  
Normal. Huh. I never knew normality, anyway. Neither did Leland, or Malcolm, or my parents . . . Siren, Dorland, the mayor . . .  
  
I'm falling into the same dark place they live in. No. I threw myself off the edge, I jumped into it. I never should have fought Leland. I should have been scared and depressed like any other person would have been, after the SKX investigation. But I was angry. I became as obsessed as him, and I found him. I found him, and I beat him. Now I'm addicted to playing that dangerous game with him.  
  
That's why I never left the bureau.  
  
That's why I never killed him.  
  
I chose this._  
  
Ethan opened his eyes to find that his vision had cleared. Crows were circling above.  
  
 _I have to finish it. But can I? Can I put an end to this endless nightmare game of ours?_  
  
He opened his phone. "Rosa?"  
  
"Ethan? How was your flight?"  
  
He looked at the plane wreck. "Just great. Slept like a baby."  
  
" . . . And? Did you land at the cabin?"  
  
"No. I'm pretty lost, actually. Stay in touch, okay?"  
  
"Will do."  
  
He followed Leland's trail into the forest. At some point, Leland must have realized he was leaving footprints because they ended abruptly. Ethan wandered aimlessly. It was a relief to be lost, anything was better than following the maniac to who knew what end. The chill seeped into his body, distracting him from his thoughts.  
  
The woods were littered with blood, body pieces. There was an unnatural feeling in the air. Thankfully, though, there were no thugs or monsters here. Eventually, Ethan found the property. He saw something in the maintenance shed move, and decided to investigate the small building first. In the basement, he found a corpse. After some forensics, he and Rosa identified it as an SCU agent.  
  
"Why would SCU agents be out here?"  
  
"They regularly patrol the area below the mountain base, but there's no reason for them to be on private property," Rosa replied. "Hmm . . . Strange. There aren't any missions posted relating to that area for today. In fact, the last mission they took care of up there was half a year ago."  
  
"Hey, is Dorland around?"  
  
"No, why?"  
  
"Just curious. Thanks, Rosa."  
  
"Sure."  
  
Just as he hung up, the floor above him shook. He looked up. Something heavy was up there. He moved cautiously through the basement, searching for anything useful.  
  
Suddenly, someone flew out at him, a blade flashing in the dim light from the naked light bulb overhead. He dodged and circled around the other person. They came face-to-face.  
  
"Leland?"  
  
Leland looked terrified, but not of him. Above, the floor shook again. Leland glanced up with wide, wild eyes.  
  
"What is that?" Ethan asked.  
  
Leland lowered the knife. He turned his face, scowling. Whatever it was, he apparently could not face it, and did not want to admit it.  
  
"Look, Leland, back there--"  
  
"Save it," Leland said shortly. "There are more important issues at hand."  
  
"Okay. You gonna tell me what 'important issue' is waiting upstairs?"  
  
Leland moved back to the chair he had been sitting on. He had been using a medical kit to bandage his bleeding, frostbitten feet. He looked quite pathetic: completely battered, still in the broken strait jacket with the mental institution uniform beneath it, barefoot, covered in blood and dirt and sweat. The man winced visibly as he tried to rub feeling into his tortured feet.  
  
"All right, fine, don't say anything. I'll just have to find out."  
  
"Wait."  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
"How did we survive?"  
  
Ethan had a feeling this wasn't what Leland really wanted to know, but didn't push the issue. "I don't know. Don't you?"  
  
Leland shook his head. "I just woke up--" _On top of you._ "--in the snow. I don't remember anything else."  
  
"Same here."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"You see the SCU corpse back there?"  
  
"Yeah, I did," Leland said quietly, tending to his other foot now. "Dorland must have sent them. He'll come up as soon as he can, you know, once they find out we're still alive."  
  
"I can handle the SCU, cultists or not."  
  
"Aren't you the confident one?" Leland said scornfully.  
  
"What about us?"  
  
"It's 'us' now, is it?” Leland grunted in amusement. “You know very well what will happen between us. I will either succeed in killing you, or you will kill me. That hasn't changed."  
  
"Why not just settle it now, then?"  
  
"I still need you." Leland's brow furrowed. He had denied that fact in his dream with his uncle, and now again he found himself saying the words.  
  
"You always did need me," Ethan said thoughtfully. "You couldn't go it alone."  
  
"That isn't true."  
  
Ethan turned Leland's face up towards his own by the chin. "Isn't it?"  
  
Leland hit his hand away. "I needed your position inside the bureau, and your power. That's all."  
  
"That isn't all. It had to be me."  
  
"I--"  
  
"Don't deny it."  
  
Leland shook his head, looking down again. "Believe what you will, Thomas. It never really mattered."  
  
Ethan put a hand on his shoulder, felt the man go stiff with tension. He wasn't used to being touched, unless it was to be hurt.  
  
"Some things matter."  
  
Leland stared up at him bleakly. _Where did the malice go? Why can't he just kill me? I can't stand this._  
  
Behind Ethan's shoulder, he saw his other self, the child. Being up here stirred many memories, memories that intertwined both of them. In the lodge up ahead, he had stolen his uncle's files, and seen Ethan Thomas for the first time. Back then, Ethan was an angry, raven-haired teen, strapping in body. Leland had envied him, being so thin and feeble from his disease. He hated him for being healthy and having power. But at the same time . . .  
  
 _'You wanted to meet him.'_  
  
Leland pushed Ethan away, getting to his feet. It hurt to walk, but the pain was a welcome distraction from his emotional turmoil.

"Now you see me as a victim, too, is that it?" he asked Ethan. "You're such a hypocrite."  
  
"You're not a victim. I never saw you as a victim, Leland."  
  
"Good."  
  
 _'You saw him in the city once,'_ little Leland was saying. _'You were smart and ruthless, he was strong and steady. You knew that together, you might have had a chance. Remember? Remember thinking about him?'_  
  
"It would be so easy if you just died,” Ethan sighed, running his hands through his hair. “I should have shot you a year ago. I should have strangled you in the hospital. I should have murdered you in the asylum, or on the plane."  
  
 _'Remember? You wanted him to save you.'_  
  
"But I didn't."  
  
"Because you're weak."  
  
"Because I'm strong."  
  
Ethan's arms suddenly wrapped around his waist from behind. Leland swallowed, eyes wide, as the man's cheek brushed against his face. He could feel his breath on his cheek, warm in the cold air. He smelled like cheap whiskey and sweat, a little bit of pine tar.  
  
"I'm stronger than their influence. And yours."  
  
Leland turned around in his arms, rigid in an attempt to not give into the embrace. "Don't you understand? It _is_ the influence. My uncle wants you to take his place, and you're doing it. You'll become just like him."  
  
"Would that be such a bad thing?"  
  
"Wha--"  
  
"I'm not a relative, and you're not a child," Ethan pointed out. "So what if I wanted you? What if I did want to take his place and keep playing these games? Wouldn't it be better than one or both of us dying?"  
  
"No. It wouldn't." Leland shoved him back. "I don't want _you_ , Thomas. I'm not some simpering little _faggot_ waiting to be rescued, and I am not going to play that role for you or anyone else."  
  
Ethan crossed his arms, watching him. "I'm not trying to rescue you."  
  
"Then _what do you want_?"  
  
"Maybe I just don't want to be alone anymore. Same as you."  
  
" _All_ I want is to be left alone,” Leland said churlishly. “We were fine, working together from a distance. You found them, I killed them. Then you had to ruin it by cornering me. I should have killed _you_ right then and there."  
  
"But you didn't."  
  
Leland shut his eyes, recalling that day in the abandoned building. That day had been the spark that ignited all of this. He should regret the choices he made back then, but did he?

"No. No, I did not." He turned to Ethan with a smirk. "You didn't fit my pattern. You do now, however." He grabbed the knife from the table. "You know, I will very much enjoy killing you."  
  
Ethan grabbed him by the wrist, wrestling him back into the wall. Leland did not drop the knife, further provoking him.

"Cut you up. Learn your little secret."  
  
Ethan's boot crushed his foot. Leland growled in pain, finally crying out. A cruel smile still on his lips, he brought them to Leland's. Leland tried to turn away from the kiss but Ethan's mouth closed on his firmly. _I want this. I want him. Maybe I'll kill him, but first I want to humiliate him. I want to break into him and take every inch of his body, make him my own. He didn't deserve it as a child. He deserves it now._  
  
Ethan threw Leland aside after the kiss, and the man hit the wall hard. "Feel free to go ahead and try, Leland."  
  
With that, he turned and walked away. Leland gaped after him in shocked horror. _He doesn't even fear me anymore. He doesn't take me seriously at all._  
  
His hands shook as he got to his feet, clutching the knife. Never in his life had he wanted to stab someone so badly. But there was a bloodthirsty bear upstairs blocking his way to his uncle, and he needed Ethan to get rid of it. Still, he couldn't help hoping that the thing tore Ethan limb from limb.  
  
 _"Ohhh_ _ **shit**_ _."  
  
_ Leland chuckled to himself as he heard Ethan's reaction. A series of fast, heavy thumps indicated the ensuing chase. While the beast went after Ethan, Leland used the opportunity to go through the house. Once he was outside, he could see the lodge, and a smile lit his face. _Finally._  
  
Despite his aching feet, Leland ran the rest of the way to the lodge. He went up the stairs outside and broke in through a window on the second floor. It was the room he had slept in the last time he had visited, just as he had left it. He removed the strait jacket and uniform, thankful to be rid of them. As he passed a mirror, he got a glimpse of himself, and stopped to look for a moment longer. His entire body was covered with bruises, the left side of his face was swollen to the point of disfigurement, and his right eye sported a puffy shiner. Ethan had done a thorough job of clobbering him.  
  
"Bastard," he muttered, going into the bathroom. He threw water on his aching face, washed all the dirt and blood off his hands. In the bedroom, he found clothes that still fit him. It was a good thing he had worn over-sized outfits as a teenager. Mercifully, there was a pair of sturdy boots waiting by the door. Leland dressed and took up his knife again.  
  
Leland glanced out the window and saw SCU trucks coming up the mountainside. He smiled. _Perfect. You use me, I'll use you, Dorland._  
  
The doorknob twisted, and he turned around. Malcolm Vanhorn came in, going white as his eyes fell on his nephew. He opened his mouth to speak but no sound came out. He looked very old all of a sudden, weak and fumbling. Leland's grip on the knife handle tightened.

  
"Hello, dear uncle," Leland greeted him with a chilling smile. "I must say, I was surprised to see you up here. It's a little early for the Christmas holiday, wouldn't you say?"  
  
"Leland--" Vanhorn licked his dry lips, taking a step back. "I . . . I thought you would come. I had a premonition."  
  
"It wasn't a premonition. It wasn't a dream, either, was it? I was there." Leland advanced on him. "I told you I would come to kill you. I told you I wanted you dead."  
  
"And I said . . . I wouldn't let you."  
  
"Good. I don't want you to 'let' me." Leland laughed. "I _want_ you to run, to fight, to try and save your miserable life. I want to see you suffer."  
  
Vanhorn's back hit the door. He could not bring himself to take his eyes off Leland. His hands groped blindly for the doorknob.  
  
"Run. Go on, _run_ ," Leland told him. "But I don't suggest going too far. They're coming up here."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"The SCU, courtesy of their puppet-masters, the Oro." Leland motioned to the wall he had scribbled on so long ago, eyes and eyes staring out in black ink. "They're always watching."  
  
Vanhorn opened the door and ran out. Behind him, Leland laughed again. He waited some minutes before going after him. _I want to savor every moment of this._  
  
Leland broke into a run, chasing his uncle throughout the lodge. Malcolm was faster and more cunning than he expected. He locked doors and threw over furniture to block his way and trip him up. Leland was still worn out from the trek through the snow and the beatings from Ethan. He had hardly gotten any asleep at all on the plane, was running on pure adrenaline and hatred. The chase began to frustrate him. He changed his method, stalking the house in stealth.  
  
He found Malcolm in the bar, and crept up behind him. Just as he raised the knife over him, Malcolm whipped around. He opened his mouth and that inhuman sound shrilled through the air. Leland's sore body lit with fiery, burning pain, and he fell to his knees.

"AAAARRGGHHH! You _fucker_!"  
  
"Do not blame me for actions you leave me with no choice but to take," Malcolm said. He took the knife from Leland's hand and threw it out the open window. "You won't win, Leland. I'm sorry. I can't let you."  
  
Leland gripped his head in both hands, trying to shake away the dizziness. When he looked up, Malcolm was gone. He got to his feet and went to go after him, but someone grabbed him from behind. He recognized the smell instantly: Ethan. Ethan put one arm around Leland's neck, twisting his arm behind his back with the other.

"Stop, _stop_ , stop. Wait."  
  
"Let go of me!" roared Leland. "This has nothing to do with you!"  
  
"I still need Vanhorn. He knows the truth about me!"  
  
"What makes you think I care about your truth?" Leland asked, struggling violently. "Let you go learn all the secrets of your power, so you can overpower me all the more easily?" He elbowed Ethan in the stomach. "I don't think so."  
  
Leland broke away from him, looking around for something to arm himself with.  
  
"I'm going to kill him--" He picked up a pool stick. "--then I'm going to kill _you_."  
  
Ethan went at him. Leland was wired with manic alertness, dodged Ethan easily. He crashed the pool stick down on Ethan's head, stunning him. He took the opportunity to pay the man back a little for his beatings, kneeing him in the stomach and punching him. Before Ethan recovered, he sped off.  
  
"UNCLE! Where are you?" Leland shouted as he ran through the house. In the kitchen, he stopped long enough to get a long, sharp carving knife. "I'm not afraid of your power! You'll have to kill me if you want to live, and I know you won't! You're too weak!"  
  
He heard a sound in the den, and ran into the room, knife raised. The moment he came in, he stopped in his tracks, finding himself staring down the barrel of a loaded gun.  
  
Malcolm had a strange look in his eyes, one Leland recognized. It was the same emptiness that had overtaken his gaze just before he had raped Leland. Leland's hand moistened with sweat. He readjusted his grip on the knife handle, stomach turning over.

"I won't let you do it, Leland," Malcolm Vanhorn said mechanically. "I won't die for you."  
  
"So you're going to kill me?"  
  
“Why not?” Malcolm shrugged. “After all, I did kill your parents."  
  
Leland's eyes widened. "You, what? it was you?"  
  
Malcolm nodded.

"Your father tried to blame the Oro's influence for murdering my wife and child,” Vanhorn explained. “I let him come with us-- your parents, Ethan's parents, and myself. We were the rebels, the crusaders, and we held the most valuable weapon in our hands: the baby Ethan, perfectly tuned from birth, the Remedy, Rememdium. Of course, they found us, even in this country. Ethan's parents were killed, and I took advantage of the violence to take my revenge. So you see, Leland, I already had my revenge: I did not torment you for revenge."  
  
"Then, why?” Leland asked, voice barely a whisper. All of a sudden, he felt like a child again. The confusion and hurt made him quiver inwardly. “Why _did_ you?"  
  
"I don't know. Perhaps I just wanted to make you feel . . . _something_. You never loved me. You never felt anything at all. After all I did for you."  
  
Leland shook his head, trying to clear it. The revelation pounded through his head like a malicious pulse. Memories tumbled through his tormented mind. He grabbed onto the only emotion he understood, the only one that brought him comfort: rage.

"You bastard." He lifted the knife. "You lying bastard!"  
  
"I'm sorry, Leland." Malcolm cocked the gun, finger not even an inch from the trigger. He struggled with himself, tears streaming from his eyes, but whatever demons he battled had a strong hold on him. "Goodbye."  
  
Leland shut his eyes, bracing for the inevitable. _I never thought I would lose. But this is it. It's over._  
  
The shot rang out through the cabin. Leland waited, but there was no impact. He shouldn't have even had time for another thought, but he did. He slowly opened his eyes. To his surprise, his uncle was gaping in horror. Blood trickled down the side of his head. His mouth worked one more time, then he collapsed.  
  
Ethan came around the furniture, lowering his gun. It had been a lucky find in another room. _I hope I made the right decision; I didn't have time to think. I wasn't going to get another chance at this._  
  
Leland stared in shock, too numb to even think. Reacting in the only way he could, he flew at Ethan with the knife. Ethan was taken off guard and the blade grazed his cheek.  
  
"Hey, hey! Stop it! Calm down! It's over!" Ethan overtook him, holding him down by the wrists on the floor. "It's over."  
  
"No, no!" shouted Leland. "Not until you're dead, too! I'm not going to let you replace him! Get _off_ me!"  
  
"Leland--"  
  
"GET OFF!"  
  
Leland managed to free one arm and stabbed the man in the side. Ethan cried out in pain. He pushed him off. He went to run, but Ethan quickly grabbed him by a pants leg. Leland tried to shake him off but Ethan's hands traveled up his body. Grunting with effort, Ethan used Leland to pull himself off the floor. Leland lifted the knife again, preparing to slash through his back.  
  
Ethan felt a strange force in his throat, as if he was choking on his rage. No, it was more than that . . .  
  
Seconds before the knife plunged into him, Ethan lifted his head and gave a furious shout. Beneath the yell, another sound reverberated through his throat. Leland was thrust back. Clutching his side briefly, Ethan jumped on him.

"You stupid bastard. Do you _like_ pushing me? Huh?"  
  
Leland flinched as Ethan sunk his fist into his side. He felt his body beginning to lag. His mind was already operating in a stunted, slow way. He glanced over at Malcolm's body, eyes faraway.

“I … ungh.” Leland jerked as Ethan punched his stomach. “Mmmm. I … I … ”  
  
"Leland, you … damn it!” Ethan drove his next blow into the floor rather than Leland. “Leland.”  
  
Ethan ran his hand down the side of Leland's battered face. The gentleness snapped Leland out of his listless state. He struggled, kicking and protesting. He slithered out from beneath Ethan and ran off. Ethan sighed, looking down at his bleeding side. _I have to chase him now? Again? I hate chasing that son-of-a-bitch._  
  
Nonetheless, he went after him. He wasn't worried about catching him, necessarily; he was worried about what he would do when he did. He felt strange, like the masked other self had blended into him completely. But what was it his other self had brought into him? Sadism? Sympathy? Lust?  
  
It was too late for regrets. He had chosen to let Leland live, even killed a former friend to save him. And now he was grabbing Leland just before the man escaped out the window of the second floor bedroom, throwing him to the floor. Leland struck him with a pipe. Once again, the two exhausted men fought desperately for control; Ethan knew he was also fighting for his life.  
  
"What is it going to take to make you stop?" Ethan asked as he slammed Leland against the floor.  
  
"Only death will stop me, Thomas."  
  
"Some gratitude for saving your miserable life."  
  
"You just want me to go on suffering in your control.” Leland glowered up at him. “Just like my uncle."  
  
"But I'm _not_ him."  
  
Leland attempted to wrench his wrists out of the man's grasp, but Ethan kept a steady grip on them. He leaned into a rough kiss. Leland's struggle only made it taste better. He could feel him saying _no_ , feel his body squirm under his own weight. As he kissed him, he wrenched the pipe from his hand, threw it out the window. The fight slowly drained out of Leland. Exhaustion and pain had worn him down to submission. As Ethan exerted his will through the kiss, he felt a bead of moisture slip from Leland's face onto his own. _A tear? Or just more bloodshed?_  
  
Ethan drew out of the kiss. He ran a hand through Leland's sweat-matted brown hair. _I want to strangle him and hold him at the same time._  
  
The killer had gone still. He stared emptily at the ceiling as Ethan tore open his shirt. Something kept him from hating it. Something kept him from trying to fight. Ethan was not as malicious as he had expected him to be. His roughened hands pressed on Leland's chest and sides gently. His mouth and tongue soothed the bruises. The intimacy did more than outrage Leland, it frightened him. More than exhaustion kept Leland still. Was it desire? His face flushed as he was turned onto his stomach, the rush of blood making his bruises throb.  
  
Ethan's hands fumbled at his fly. When he pulled Leland's jeans down, Leland finally tried to push away. Ethan slammed him back down, albeit less brutally than usual, and held him in place. Leland gave it up. His mind shouted at him to fight back, that he was no longer a child with no choice other than to accept his fate. Leland's breath caught in his throat as his briefs were pulled down, a calloused palm squeezing, slapping his exposed buttocks. His stomach turned over again. Heat washed through his wrecked body, the warmth of humiliation. It was not as unpleasant as he expected. In fact, he felt an erection stirring.  
  
Ethan almost regretted the fact that Leland had given up fighting. The adrenaline in his veins cooled as he realized that Leland would not challenge him again. Even the few spanks he gave him did nothing to reignite Leland's defiance. _He's beaten,_ Ethan thought as he eyed the red handprints he had left on the man's buttocks. _He's utterly beaten._

The victory of conquest inflamed Ethan's lust. He gripped Leland's thighs, lifted him onto his knees. He went rock hard at the sight of his vicious enemy with his face down and his ass up beneath him. Leland was shaking, perhaps at the coolness in the room or at the realization of his vulnerability. His arms came up behind his head, gripping his hair. There was something sweetly shameful in the gesture. Ethan hurriedly opened his own fly, took his erection out. He got up behind Leland, parting his reddened cheeks harshly. Leland gave a strangled cry when he drove into him. It was the most wonderful sound Ethan had ever heard.


	9. Chapter 9

Leland sat up on floor, wincing, and pulled his clothes back on. Before he stood fully, Ethan pulled him back down beside him. Their eyes met. The tenderness of his touch and the softness of the gaze made them both turn away.  
  
"What now?" Leland asked, trying to veer away from Ethan.  
  
"We get out of here before Dorland gets here," Ethan said, holding him firmly by the wrist. He opened his phone.  
  
"And then?"  
  
Ethan looked at him. Not knowing what to say, he dialed the bureau. "Hi, Rosa?"  
  
"Ethan, thank goodness. I was worried about you. Are you all right?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Vanhorn--"  
  
"He's dead."  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry."  
  
Ethan drew a breath, looking at Leland. The killer sat at his side, staring at his wrist in Ethan's hand. There was an undercurrent of sulking, but he was calm. Ethan rubbed his fingers over Leland's split-open knuckles.

"Don't be," he told Rosa. "I killed him. Look, there's too much to explain right now. I need to get out of here, alone."  
  
"I sent LeRue to get you. _Not_ with the other agents, don't worry."  
  
"Can I trust him?"  
  
"I trust him, and right now, that's the best we can do." Rosa paused, then asked, "What about SKX?"  
  
Ethan's grip on Leland's wrist tightened. Their eyes met again. There were a lot of questions simmering in Leland's eyes. Fortunately, he knew enough to be quiet for once.

“I haven't found him.”  
  
Leland raised his eyebrows. A small, smug smirk quirked up his lips. He mouthed, ' _You never cease to amaze me, Mr. Thomas.'_  
  
"Oh.” Rosa sounded surprised. “Well, okay. I'll see you soon. Be careful."  
  
"I will."  
  
He hung up, sighed. He gave Leland a long, weary look. In truth, he planned to get him back to the asylum. How he was going to accomplish this, he didn't know.  
  
"No way." Leland yanked his arm out of Ethan's grip and stood up, brushing himself off. "There is no way that I am going to leave here with _you_ and your agent friends. Don't think that whatever this is changes anything between us, Agent Thomas.”  
  
Ethan also got to his feet. "Meaning, you still intend to slice me open?"  
  
"That's right."  
  
"You know I can't just let you go free."  
  
A loud crash downstairs interrupted them. They whipped around.  
  
"They're coming," Leland said quietly. He knelt and picked up the knife. "I need to get to him first."  
  
"Who? WAIT!"  
  
Despite everything, Leland was still very fast. He was out the door before Ethan could stop him. Ethan exhaled, shoulders slumping. He debated just leaving the killer to his business, but gunshots ringing out downstairs convinced him not to.  
  
To Ethan's surprise, the SCU agents opened fire on him the moment they saw him. He had to be very quick to avoid the bullets, and take them on without mercy. It was a grueling runaround to get back to the library, but even the violence of taking on the agents could not prepare him for the sight he broke through the library doors to.  
  
Leland had sliced open Vanhorn, and was now methodically dissecting him. He had rolled up his sleeves and donned gloves and an apron from the hunting lodge's animal skinning supplies. The precautions made little difference; he was covered in blood. The man was so intent, he hardly noticed Ethan's entry, head bowed over the corpse.  
  
Ethan stood in dumb shock, uncertain of what to say or do. A fresh wave of fear of the serial killer overwhelmed him. It was mingled with sorrow.  
  
"Leland."  
  
The man glanced up, eyes going hard. "Don't interfere, Thomas."  
  
"Listen, the SCU is here. We have to get out of here before Dorland decides to show up. I'm not up to taking him and his entire force on."  
  
Leland tugged out Vanhorn's vocal cords, staring at them with wide eyes. "I'm not done, and when I am, I am not leaving with _you_."  
  
"Don't you think you'd be better off with me than with Dorland?"  
  
Leland exhaled, saying nothing. He unscrewed an apothecary jar filled with preservative and put the vocal cords inside. Then, he went back to carving open his dead uncle.  
  
Ethan watched him with morbid fascination. After a moment, he approached him. Before he could say anything, the doors burst open with a crash. Ethan pulled Leland away from the corpse, though Leland fought with a new surge of energy.  
  
"Hell is your problem?" he asked angrily. "I can handle myself."  
  
Irritated, Ethan released him. It was true, Leland had survived greater threats. Ethan was in no mood to both fight the SCU and try to restrain the maniac. He went to find something to arm himself with. Leland, true to his selfish nature, left him to deal with the agents, stealthily dragging the body to a corner of the room away from the others to continue his 'work'. He went on despite all the gunfire and fighting, until Ethan suddenly came up beside him and grabbed him by the shoulder, shaking him.  
  
"Can't you do something?" he asked. "These guys don't quit."  
  
Leland wiped sweat from his brow with a sleeve. "Mr. Thomas, you are lucky I haven't _joined them_." He lifted the knife, grinning. "You would be even more of a pleasure to cut up."  
  
Gunfire shot towards them, and they both jumped aside. "Man, I don't have the energy for this," grumbled Ethan, back pressed to the wall. "You, them, it's just so--"  
  
"Enthralling, isn't it?" Leland said next to him. "Don't you feel the rush of adrenaline?"  
  
Just then, a truck smashed in through the back wall. LeRue's voice rang out among the shots and yells, "Thomas! Get in!"  
  
Ethan grabbed Leland, but the man fought. In the middle of the room, he shook Ethan off. "No. NO!"  
  
"Leland--"  
  
Leland turned to run, and Ethan saw the shooter take aim. He fired before he got a chance to even say anything, and Leland was pushed back. "Argh!"  
  
Ethan looked back at the truck, then at Leland. The sniper was going for another shot. Ethan dove in. He pushed Leland down, and shot the agent.  
  
"Damn it," Leland muttered, clutching his shoulder. He took a step forward, but fell to his knees. The blood was flowing fast, and his body had come to the point where it couldn't take any more. Nonetheless, he hit away Ethan's hand when he went to lift him up. "Just get out of here, you fool! Get . . . out . . . "  
  
"How many times am I going to have to save your dumb ass, Leland, huh?" Ethan asked wearily. "You think I enjoy this?"  
  
"Actually, I **know** you do."  
  
Ethan ducked under gunfire, pulled Leland to his feet. This time, Leland did not fight. Ethan brought him up into the truck and heaved him onto the passenger seat, standing between him and LeRue. LeRue's smile faded the moment he set his sights on Serial Killer X. He looked at Ethan questioningly, but didn't speak the things on his mind.  
  
"Okay, we're out of here," he said, pulling the truck out of the house. He steered them fast down the mountainside, leaving the agents behind.  
  
Ethan had opened Leland's shirt and was attempting to hold in the bleeding with his hand. "Hold still."  
  
"Arggg . . . Damn it," Leland complained. He was used to pain, being so scarred and abused by years on the streets, but until now, he had never caught a bullet. The pouring blood made his head feel light, and he realized that he was solely at Ethan's mercy now. Angry, he turned his face, not wanting to look at him, swearing under his breath several times.  
  
"We need to get to a hospital," Ethan remarked, more to himself than anyone else.  
  
"I don't think anyone would mind much if this bastard died right here," LeRue pointed out. "Hell, no one would have cared if he had died in the commotion back there."  
  
"I need this scum alive," Ethan replied to LeRue's unvoiced question. "Vanhorn's dead, and he's the only one with the answers I still need."  
  
"Okay." LeRue obviously was not convinced Leland had to live, but he let it go. "We're going to reconvene at the bureau's HQ."  
  
Leland coughed. Ethan understood his displeasure.  
  
"You sure about that?" Ethan asked. "Dorland set this up, you know. He's trying to get me killed."  
  
"Even if that's the case, you'll be safe with Farrell," LeRue explained. "Why do you think Dorland didn't come up here personally? They got into a huge fight, and Dorland didn't make it out the door."  
  
"Farrell wants your power," Leland informed Ethan. "Wants to use it for himself."  
  
"Well, he's still the safest bet I have for now," Ethan said wearily. "We'll get you taken care of, and then we can all sit down and figure something out. I'll have to play Farrell for now. I don't have many allies."  
  
"I'm not going to make nice with the SCU," Leland said. "Farrell, Dorland, you, I'd slice you all up if I-- Arrrgghhh!"  
  
Ethan pressed the bullet wound hard, shutting him up for the moment. "What about you, LeRue? You in on all this?"  
  
"I don't even really know what 'this' is," LeRue said. "But I trust Rosa, and she trusts you, so I'll do my best to help out, all right?"  
  
"What about your boss, Dorland?"  
  
"I'm done with that asshole," LeRue said derisively. "There are things way more important to me than a job."  
  
"How do we know you're not with the Oro?" Leland grumbled, voice slurred. "I hate this. They're everywhere, _everywhere_ , watching . . . "  
  
"What Oro? What is this nut talking about?"  
  
"It's a very long story," Ethan said. "Let's just worry about getting off this fucking mountain first."  
  
"Whatever you say, man."  
  
"They'll kill us, too," Leland went on. "Especially me. I don't have that power. I don't have anything. They won't give it to me. Dorland lied, he . . . used me . . . Everyone fucking uses me . . . "  
  
"Can't we dump this guy off?" LeRue asked. "He gives me the creeps."  
  
"Why don't you dump yourself off?" Leland retorted. "If you're not one of them, then you're already a dead man talking. They'll make your brain explode with their powers, or I'll cut you open from one ear to the other."  
  
"That's enough," Ethan said angrily, pressing on the wound again.  
  
LeRue scowled, but the words had caused his eyes to light with fear. _I don't blame him,_ Ethan thought. _Between the cult and this serial killer, we're all going to hell fast. The only reason I can deal with it is that I'm drunk, desperate, and half-crazy myself._


	10. Chapter 10

Leland passed out long before they got into the city. Ethan tried to hide his concern with silence, but he knew it was on his face. LeRue wouldn't be the only one to notice the change; he knew Rosa would question him straight out once she got a sense of it. But how could he answer their questions when he couldn't even answer his own?  
  
Fortunately, Leland was taken in for surgery before Rosa caught a glimpse of Ethan's eyes fixated on him, and LeRue was polite enough not to mention anything. Rosa suggested they go to the morgue to wait for Vanhorn's body before Dorland got to it first, and so the three went. In the cold, sterile morgue, Ethan told his only two allies everything that had happened: about the Oro, his lineage, the brainwashed city, and Dorland and Farrell's ulterior motives. All he could do was sit and explain, and pray they would believe him.  
  
"That's some pretty heavy stuff you're talking about," LeRue said seriously when Ethan finished. "It's all pretty sci-fi, if you ask me."  
  
"Yeah, only it's _not_ fiction," Ethan said defensively.  
  
"I didn't say it was," LeRue grumbled. He glanced at Rosa for help, but she was uncharacteristically silent. "Look, all I'm saying is that it's a lot to handle. That's all."  
  
"You're not the one handling it, LeRue!" Ethan shot back. "Where were you a year ago? Still following around Dorland? Well, I was chasing a madman, alone, through this entire damn city! And I've been going ever since, dealing with this hell-- alone! And you know what? I would be fine if it were just Leland. I can handle SKX. But it isn't just Leland. It never was. It was Vanhorn, and Farrell, and Dorland-- and God knows who else! All these people that I don't even know, and they all want me dead."  
  
A grim silence fell between them.  
  
"I understand why you're looking at me and hoping I'm just crazy," Ethan told LeRue. "I don't blame you, I really don't. _I_ wish it was all paranoia and lies. But it's not. It's . . . It's not."  
  
Ethan stood, glancing at the clock on the wall.

"You can believe me or not." He glanced at Rosa. "I'm not going to ask either of you for anything. I wouldn't do that." He turned back to LeRue. "But if you choose not to believe me, then just, please, don't get in my way, either."  
  
He was surprised that she said nothing. Normally, Rosa was the first to state her trust of him. Her quiet was disconcerting, and drove Ethan out of the room more quickly. In the hall, he saw agents wheeling in a body bag, and he somehow knew Vanhorn was inside it. Strangely enough, he felt nothing whatsoever, not even guilt.  
  
Shrugging off the nonchalance, Ethan went up a floor to the medical center. Leland was out of surgery, and he headed into his room. The man was unconscious still, once again safely strapped down to a hospital bed, from his ankles to his wrists. Ethan stood over him, just watching him breathe. Even with his battered and scarred, rugged face, he looked deceivingly normal when sleeping.  
  
Ethan reached out a hand to brush his disheveled hair from his forehead, and remembered how Vanhorn had done the same thing that night in the asylum. As much as he hated to admit it, he had come to mimic Vanhorn's way of treating Leland. He did not believe the murderer was not responsible for his actions, as Vanhorn had, but he was beginning to pity him regardless. It was more than pity, it was . . .  
  
Watching him almost bleed to death in the truck, Ethan had realized that for the first time in a year, he had not wanted Leland to die. He wished he could say he wanted Leland alive to torture and play with, but it would be a lie.  
  
The man stirred in the bed, and his eyes opened slowly. "You," he scoffed, groggy with fatigue and medication. "Are you going to try and strangle me again?"  
  
“Crossed my mind.” Ethan put a hand on his neck, then let it fall. "Nah. Not this time."  
  
Leland chuckled softly. "Of course not. Not now that you have a plaything, isn't that right? Just like my uncle . . . "  
  
"I didn't come for that, Leland."  
  
"Yeah, right.” Leland shifted, trying to shake off the stupor. “Listen. I owe you one now, don't I? It wouldn't be fair to slice you to pieces without breaking even first, so let me tell you this: You can't let Dorland know that you are aware of your power. Not yet."  
  
"Why is my power specifically such a threat?" Ethan asked. He leaned over Leland on the bed, searching his eyes. "Vanhorn said 'perfectly tuned from birth', but what the hell does that mean? I'm not a fucking radio."  
  
"No, you're an instrument," Leland said. "The Oro have kept their bloodlines pure, through whatever means necessary: rape, incest, anything. It isn't working, they're losing their power anyway. Of course, breeding in favor of a defect always leads to more genetic corruption than intended, and these people have been breeding this way since before science brought us genetic manipulation. Vanhorn had files on the hundreds of babies born like monsters-- missing limbs, strange deformities, retardation. The rest of the children, such as myself, have had some less serious health problems, but are lacking that desired vocal cord deformity."  
  
"Your uncle had it, though."  
  
"Barely," Leland scoffed. "Why do you think he didn't use the power to kill me? He _couldn't_. And most of the ones with any power at all these days are that weak, some weaker. So, they enhance their bodies, they 'tune' them, to substantiate their abilities. It's all about hitting the right frequency, the right levels, just like any sound device."  
  
"So, you're saying they-- _we_ , are biological weapons?"  
  
"In essence, yes, some of the most ancient biological weapons." There was a mixture of envy and awe in Leland's voice. "And you, Ethan, have the potential to be the most powerful of them."  
  
"That's kind of hard to believe right now."  
  
"Modesty doesn't suit you," Leland said. "I know you feel it, Thomas. I know you want it."  
  
"Actually, I don't." Ethan sat on the edge of the bed, staring down at Leland's restrained form, looking at his bandaged shoulder. "I didn't want any of this. I was fine with my job, my life, until you brought me into it."  
  
"You can't place all the blame on my shoulders. It was inevitable that you face your past,” Leland said defensively. “There was no way the Oro would ever let you escape it. So long as they have existed, they've had a superstition about the potential of a perfect weapon being born. Prophecies, fear, panic-- so much as they value their genetic power, they have a reasonable fear of it, as well. Only once before was a baby born with your same potential, and he grew to a man that nearly destroyed them all. That is why only the weakest strains survive to this date."  
  
"It's happened before?"  
  
"According to my uncle's books, yes, hundreds of years ago," Leland explained. "That is why they were so terrified when you were born and they realized your potential. As you heard Malcolm say, your parents led a small group here to hide you and keep you alive, after it was decided by the others you had to die. I never knew my parents were in support of you."  
  
“Sulking?” Ethan observed with a chuckle. "You're too old to be jealous like that, you know."  
  
"I am not jealous. None of that matters, they're _all_ dead now," Leland said spitefully. "Ironically, it's only us left. Their precious Rememdium, the best of their genetic heritage, and myself, the failure. Isn't that simply poetic?"  
  
"You should just be grateful you don't have to deal with all this shit," Ethan told him. "You know what I'd give to not be involved?"  
  
"Don't you get it?" Leland asked, pulling himself up as best he could with the straps. "I _am_ involved."  
  
"Only because you choose to be," Ethan said. "You've always been after their power, wanting to be one of them. Is that why you're obsessed with me? You think if you kill me, they'll be grateful and let you in?"  
  
"I'm not obsessed with you."  
  
"They're no point denying it anymore, Leland, okay?" Ethan said impatiently. “We've come too far for you to keep playing these stupid games.”  
  
"And you can't deny their influence has been pushing us together from the start,” Leland retorted. “Do you think it's all just been a string of coincidences? Come on, even you are smarter than that."  
  
"So you're blaming the influence now?"  
  
"You can't deny it has been connecting us, or at least greatly strengthening the connection."  
  
Ethan opened his mouth to protest before remembering the masked demon that had been plaguing him. The truth struck him at once: the demon was an hallucination caused by the Oro's influence. It was so simple. He rubbed a hand over his face, giving the argument up.

"All right, then, why?” he asked. “I don't see how us fucking would benefit the Oro in any kind of way."  
  
"I doubt it's about the sex," chuckled Leland. "No, that would be your own perversion, a mere side effect. They have always been aware of how jealous of your power I am, and have probably decided to use that to send me after you. They believe that if anyone can kill you, it's me.”  
  
"Don't flatter yourself," Ethan said dryly. "They're probably just using you as a diversion."  
  
"That would mean they're planning something, something that takes time, wouldn't it?" Leland mused. "The city has gotten worse over the past year. Actually, the entire country has gone to hell. They are not just crazy and losing control, that isn't how they operate. There must be a method to this madness."  
  
"But what the hell are they trying to accomplish by screwing everything up? Riots, insanity, violence. It doesn't make any sense."  
  
"It must to them."  
  
"And I thought _you_ were the craziest thing I'd ever deal with."  
  
"You know very well that I am not insane."  
  
"I'm starting to question that."  
  
“When did that happen?” Leland asked sullenly. He squirmed against his restraints. “I thought that we had agreed I'm a psychopath, but one that knows exactly what they are doing.”  
  
"It's happened little by little. The drawings, the cryptic passages, the way you dissected your uncle." Ethan leaned over him closely. "The way you let me fuck you."  
  
Leland tried to look away but Ethan held his face in place with his mutilated hand. A faint blush crept into Leland's cheeks, beneath the bruises.

"I still think you should be held responsible for your actions,” Ethan said. “You need to be punished, and you will be. But there is something tragic about you. I really do think you can't help yourself."  
  
"I wouldn't know, I've never tried," Leland said. "And that's the **point**. I don't want to stop. I am perfectly conscious of my actions. I'm not crazy."  
  
"Then why did you let me have you?"  
  
Leland scowled, avoiding Ethan's gaze.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"I don't know," sighed Leland. "Maybe I just never learned how to refuse it. I learned early on how to take a beating, and … and worse."  
  
Ethan's remaining fingers smoothed over Leland's face, tracing his features. Leland's blush deepened.  
  
"You can't help yourself," Ethan said. "Last year, I fought your demon. That was your demon, wasn't it? That I killed?"  
  
Leland nodded.  
  
"But you still didn't stop. You couldn't stop."  
  
"It was only one demon," Leland said. "Just one of-of _them_. Besides, as I said, I wouldn't stop, anyway. I don't want to. I enjoy killing, and I don't see what the problem with it is. Some people deserve to die."  
  
"And the innocents you'll just snuff out along the way? Like my partners, and me?"  
  
"Collateral damage."  
  
"You are nuts." Ethan stood, stretching his arms. As he did, a sharp pain in his side reminded him of the stab wound. "Fucking crazy bastard."  
  
"And you don't think it's equally crazy to have saved me so many times?"  
  
Ethan went to the door. "I never said I wasn't crazy too."  
  
"Where are you going?"  
  
"I need this sewn up, and I have to decide what to do next."  
  
"You're going to leave me here?" Leland asked. "What about Dorland?"  
  
"I'm going to do the sane thing for once. You're on your own, Leland."  
  
He left. Leland lay his head back, frowning at the ceiling. The solitude weighed down on him like an anchor. He tried the restraints but saw there would be no undoing them. Despite his best efforts to stay watchful, he was soon overcome by exhaustion. His anxiety ebbed away and he fell into a deep sleep.  
  
In the halls, Ethan ran into Rosa again. She looked up at him with an odd, pondering expression, and then averted her gaze. Something was deeply troubling her, something she was reticent to bring up.  
  
"Did they bring Vanhorn's body?" Ethan asked.  
  
"Yes," Rosa said. "He was destroyed, vocal cords missing. Did Serial Killer X do that?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Did you _let_ him do that?"  
  
"No!" Ethan exclaimed, surprised by the accusation. Thinking back on it, however, he realized that he had not once attempted to stop Leland's desecration of the body. "Look, Dorland's agents were trying to shoot me, okay? I didn't have time to do anything about it."  
  
"Oh, I see." Rosa paused, collected herself. Determination flooded her eyes, hardened her features. "LeRue said Leland caught a bullet, was right in a sniper's line of fire. He said that you shot the agent to save Leland, insisted on bringing SKX back on the truck. I was surprised, to say the least. Just days ago, you couldn't be trusted to visit him in the asylum."  
  
"I need him, that's all."  
  
" _Is_ that all?" Rosa asked. "Back there, you told us everything except why you killed Vanhorn." She crossed her arms. "So why did you?"  
  
 _What am I gonna say? That I just saved the man who ruined my life several times? That I was pissed off Vanhorn had abused Leland as a child? Even though I get off on abusing him now? What the fuck can I say?_  
  
Looking down, Ethan suddenly caught sight of a small child. He was about to ask what the kid was doing there when he realized it was the image of young Leland. _No, it can't be,_ Ethan thought in horror. _Is this one of his demons? I haven't even had a drink in a while. It can't just be a hallucination._  
  
"Well?" Rosa urged him.  
  
The child Leland looked up at her. _'It has nothing to do with her,'_ he told Ethan. _'You chose me, didn't you?'_  
  
"Rosa, I . . . "  
  
 _'You want_ _ **me**_ _, don't you?'_  
  
"It was to save Leland," Ethan blurted out, trying to ignore the ghostly child. "Vanhorn was going to shoot him, and I just reacted."  
  
"To save _Leland_?" Rosa echoed, her voice a stunned whisper. "It's . . . It's 'Leland' now? You told me just last night, at my apartment, that Leland is not a victim. You had no pity for him when I expressed empathy. What happened?"  
  
"Lots of sh-- stuff," Ethan said, scratching the back of his neck. "When he told me about what Vanhorn did to him, I didn't want to believe him. But I did tell him that if it was true, I wouldn't stop him from killing Vanhorn. I just-- I don't know. I couldn't let Vanhorn take anything else away from him."  
  
"I understand that, but there's something else. Ethan, the way you speak about him, it's different. You sound almost like you--” Rosa cut herself off, lips tightening. “What changed?"  
  
They walked from the hospital wing to the elevators. She pressed the 'Down' button and they waited.  
  
"I never thought I had a past before, Rosa," Ethan told her. "My childhood memories mostly consist of being shuttled from foster to foster with a garbage bag of some clothes. No one knew me, no one wanted to know me, and I didn't want to know them, either. I was just alone, pointless and ignored."  
  
"What does that have to do with Leland Vanhorn?"  
  
"I hate to say it, but he's a part of my past by default," Ethan explained. "He was also alone, in a different kind of way. Being isolated mentally by abuse and illness, it had to be worse than anything I ever went through. I didn't know it, but he was obsessed with me all the way back then. He would track me through his uncle's files and reports and pictures, follow my life. He's actually been stalking me since we were children."  
  
"But that doesn't mean _you_ have to have an attachment to him," Rosa argued mildly. "You never cared about him, didn't even know about him until a year ago, so why are you reciprocating his obsession now?"  
  
"I'm not obsessed with him," Ethan said, sounding more annoyed than he wished to. "All I'm saying is that he's one of the few last pieces of my past, and I don't want him dead just yet."  
  
"That didn't stop you from killing Vanhorn."  
  
The elevator doors opened and they went in. Ethan leaned against the wall, staring at the mirrored ceiling as they descended. His eyes were bloodshot and swollen, face bruised. At least he was in better shape than Leland.  
  
"Vanhorn was a sick, twisted freak."  
  
"So is Leland," Rosa reminded him. "The difference is that Vanhorn would have helped you, and he wouldn't be out for your blood."  
  
In the reflection above, Ethan's face contorted into a mask. _'But Vanhorn wouldn't have been such a good fuck now, would he have?'_  
  
"What?"  
  
Ethan looked back down at Rosa, then glanced at the demon above. "I didn't say anything," he said slowly. _Did she hear that thing?_  
  
"Yes, you did, you mumbled something," Rosa said. "You said you feel something for him. For Leland?"  
  
Ethan's brow furrowed. A cold feeling filled him. "I didn't say anything, Rosa."  
  
"I was looking right at you. What do you 'feel' for Leland?"  
  
A rage he had never felt around the woman before was welling up inside him, like the ugly black masses of tar he so often fought through. Why didn't she just shut up? It wasn't her business. She had no idea the hell he was in.  
  
"We come from the same place, we . . . we see the same things," Ethan said, fighting to control himself. "He was right. He is involved, he always has been. I just need him. I need someone else that knows that world, even if it's him."  
  
 _'That isn't it. You_ _ **know**_ _that isn't the real reason.'_  
  
"But Vanhorn was--"  
  
"I don't care what Vanhorn was!" Ethan shouted, hitting the elevator wall. "He murdered Leland's parents, okay? Stole their child, raped him! And he tried to excuse everything by saying it was the Oro's influence! All he did was lie and manipulate people! Leland is a murderous son-of-a-bitch, but at least he's honest. You know what to expect. But Vanhorn was a coward, a coward and a demon. If he were here, I'd shoot him again."  
  
The fear and hurt in her eyes further aggravated him. Rosa stepped back, swallowing. The elevator came to a stop. They stared at one another in terse silence for a moment when the doors opened, neither moving to exit.  
  
"He'll take advantage of that, you know," she finally said. "He'll use your sympathy against you."  
  
"Well, I've got plenty to use against him, too."  
  
 _'Not to mention, even more to 'take advantage' of.'_  
  
"But then you're just . . . "  
  
"Go ahead," Ethan challenged her. "Go ahead, say it. I'm just like him."  
  
"Ethan . . . "  
  
"That's what you meant, isn't it?"  
  
"No," Rosa said angrily. "I was going to say you're playing his game, exactly the way he wants you to. You're risking your life, Ethan."  
  
"Everyone's risking their lives. You can't always help what reasons you risk your life for, right?"  
  
Rosa looked down. "No, you can't."  
  
"Look, Rosa, I'm sorry I was yelling, I just--"  
  


"I'm not going to break, Thomas, don't worry,” Rosa said dryly. “Come on, let's go take one last look at Vanhorn's body, okay? I want to compare something."  
  
"Yeah. Yeah, let's go."  
  
He left the masked demon behind in the elevator mirrors.  
  
 _Days ago, I was fighting to convince her Leland was better off dead. Now, I'm fighting to defend my reasons for wanting him alive. Is this how Vanhorn felt? He spent his life trying to destroy Leland, only to end up fighting to undo the damage. No wonder Leland wants the power so badly; he's been used all his life by the ones that possess it. And I'm . . . I'm no different at all.  
  
But then I run my fingers across the empty space where the fifth should be. I remember what it felt like to think he was the strong one, and I was the one powerless and at his mercy. I remember how he tormented me, the look in those cold eyes as he prepared to murder me . . .  
  
And the sympathy just goes. It never really was. I wasn't the one who hurt him, but he put me through hell anyway. And I just want to hurt him all over again. I will hurt him again. We'll keep pushing until something gives, until someone breaks. It's crazy, but the promise of that is what's keeping me going through this whole mess.  
  
I am obsessed. Leland was right about everything. Obsession fills the loneliness, it distracts you from desperation and hopelessness. At least you have someone to hold on to . . . _


	11. Chapter 11

Leland found himself in a house outside town, in what passed for countryside in this state. It was the place he had lured Ethan to for their final confrontation one year ago. He wandered the abandoned building listlessly, eventually making his way to the attic. There were so many things from his childhood that he expected to see the weak little demon-ghost version of himself there.  
  
But he didn't.  
  
Standing beneath the eaves of the room was another demon, this one an inhuman monster, bound up and with spikes protruding from his skin, mouth full of sharp fangs. This one did not speak, he did not need to.  
  
"I thought Ethan had gotten rid of you," Leland said slowly. "No, no, of course he didn't. I felt you. This whole time, I've felt you, clawing away at me, making my hands itch for blood. But not Ethan's blood. Why? Because he defeated you? You respect him?"  
  
Leland shook his head. "No. No, you're only me. Then, do _I_ respect him?"  
  
 _'No.'_  
  
Leland shut his eyes, groaning.

"No, not you." He turned around and saw the child. "Go away, you little fucker."  
  
Likewise, the larger demon looked ready to tear the child apart.  
  
 _'You don't respect Ethan, or anyone. You only respect your own ego,'_ the child said placidly. _'But you want him. You want him to be yours, because no one else has ever been.'_  
  
"I want him to be mine, mine to murder."  
  
 _'If you wanted him dead, he would already be dead.'_  
  
"I . . . I'm just . . . "  
  
 _'You never make excuses, don't start now,'_ the boy said. _'You always wanted Ethan to be yours. Back then, you had no strength and never thought you would, so you wanted his power. It calls you. It turns you on. Doesn't it?'  
  
_ "Ethan does?” Leland murmured uncertainly. “No. No, he's just … He's--”  
  
 _'--everything you have always admired'_ the child finished for him. _'Strong, handsome, dangerous. He is a killer, just like you, but he hasn't strayed as far from that 'path of righteousness' as you have.'_  
  
"I haven't had a choice!" Leland snapped. "He made me! He started this whole thing."  
  
 _'No, you did, the moment you made yourself visible to him.'  
  
_ Leland remembered the first time he had seen Ethan, knocking him to his feet and aiming his own gun down at him. He had acted cool, scoffing and leaving Ethan there, but his heart had been racing. The contact had been so exciting that he had masturbated later that night. Nonetheless …   
  
"I was disappointed," Leland recalled. "All those years of watching him, all the hype of his legacy and power, and there he was, defeated in an instant. He was so weak back then. I was disgusted. He wasn't even worth the bullet at that point."  
  
 _'You wanted him to be stronger. You wanted to_ _ **make**_ _him stronger. You wanted to bring out his demons and play, didn't you?'  
  
_ By the end, in this very house, Leland had been the one on the run from Ethan. He had been trapped, cornered, and Ethan had beaten him. They fought man to man, neither one armed. By then, Ethan had grown strong enough to overcome him.  
  
 _'And you did. You made him like us. He is everything you ever wanted.'_  
  
Leland was hugging himself, face a mask of anxiety and confusion. He had been outraged to be beaten, but at the same time, he was pleased with Ethan. It was always like that. As violated and dirty as he felt, as jealous as he was, there was always a part of him that enjoyed being brought down by Ethan.  
  


The child was leaning over a discarded chair, a perverse sexuality about the pose. His lanky light brown hair fell over his forehead, throwing a shadow over his eyes. He smiled innocently.

_'This is not Uncle Malcolm,'_ he said. _'This is not family. You are not me, not on the surface. You're strong, and that makes the challenge of finding one stronger all the more alluring. You forgot what pain was like somewhere along the way on the streets. You missed it. Your life isn't complete without it. Ethan fills that gap.'  
  
_ The silent, mature demon was lingering over the boy now. A hand went over the child's bottom, just feeling him, and the child did not seem to mind.  
  
"I'm not a masochist," Leland said haughtily. "Suffering is for the weak."  
  
 _'But you_ _ **are**_ _weak. You know it. You know you could never really beat Ethan, not anymore. You had your chance, and you gave it up. You chose this.'_  
  
"No, that's not true," Leland said. His eyes were on the demon, standing so dangerously close behind the boy. "Stop it! Stop that, get away from him!"  
  
The boy lay his head over the chair back, stooping forward more.

_But it's been so long, Leland,'_ he taunted. _'All those years in the street, you never touched anyone, or let them touch you. Ethan was the only one you ever wanted, and now you have him. Doesn't it feel good?'  
  
_ "No. No! It doesn't! I . . . I want to kill him! I don't want to be used!"  
  
 _'But you aren't good for anything else.'  
  
_ "I'll get that power," Leland said. "Then, I'll use him. I'll use him and kill him, like I've always intended to. And then I'll kill you once and for all."  
  
 _'You'll lose.'_  
  
Leland turned away from the demons, far too close. He felt hot. Doubt simmered in his eyes.  
  
 _'You know that even with any power they could give you, you wouldn't be strong enough to beat Ethan. And it's just as well, because you need him. You always have.'  
  
_ "I don't need anyone!"  
  
 _'You wouldn't even be Serial Killer X if it weren't for him.'  
  
_ "I . . . " Leland fell to his knees. He was still in the house, mentally, but he became aware of his body in the hospital bed. He could feel the restraints wrapped around his arms and legs, the bruises all over his body. He saw himself prostrated as Ethan drove into him, everything blurred and colorless. He had cried out . . . for the first time since childhood . . .  
  
The demon was grinding against the child, who looked calmly pleasured. Leland could feel the same ecstasy as the memories passed through his mind, so fresh they still stung appealingly. He had always wanted to punish injustice, punish the criminals, but who punished him?  
  
Not his uncle. That was not justice, only meaningless, cruel abuse. But Ethan . . . The boy was right, Ethan was more righteous than him. Serial Killer X allowed himself to get carried away, to drag innocents into his plans, and his blood lust guided him alone sometimes. Not Ethan.  
  
 _"I should have murdered you . . . but I didn't."  
  
"Because you're weak."  
  
"Because I'm strong."  
  
_The child cocked his head, as if listening to the voices in Leland's head.

_'Let him save you, Leland,'_ he said mockingly. _'Who else could? Who else_ _ **would**_ _?'_  
  
Leland's head began to spin, everything blackened. Ethan's words echoed in his mind as everything faded.  
  
 _"I'm stronger than their influence. And yours."  
  
_ Leland was fully back in bed, struggling.

"Ethan . . . "  
  
"I am not your boyfriend, you fucking asshole."  
  
Leland forced his eyes open. _Oh Jesus. Dorland.  
  
_ The brawny agent was standing beside the bed with his usual angry, brutish face glowering down at Leland. His arms were crossed, pale hands gripping his elbows tightly.  
  
"What are you talking about?" Leland asked groggily. He wished he could rub his burning eyes. "Pissed that your little trap went off wrong? Twice?"  
  
"I'm not the one that went from wanting to murder someone to letting them fuck me."  
  
Leland's eyes widened. _How the hell does he know?  
  
_ “We're always watching, asshole.” Dorland pointed to his eye. “I didn't think you'd forget that, always scribbling about it like a damn freak."  
  
Leland swallowed but his throat was dry and clicked. His face burned with humiliation. He wanted to come up with a sharp retort but could not even speak.  
  
"But don't get me wrong," Dorland went on, "I'm actually glad that you decided to be Thomas' little bitch."  
  
Leland's hand twitched. He wanted blood again, more than ever. But he knew Dorland was over his level. So much as he hated to think it, he found himself hoping Ethan would do the job for them both.  
  
"Now Thomas has a weak spot, and such an accessible one."  
  
Dorland leaned down over Leland, resting a strong arm over his chest. The bullet wound ached, but Leland was too furious to even notice.  
  
"You know, I can't blame Thomas," Dorland said maliciously. "You think killing makes you strong? Ha. You're only a human, Vanhorn. Just a simpering, scared little human, like all the rest of them. And you know it, don't you? That's why you let him give it to you--" He reached down into the sheets, groping at the man's thigh, almost reaching into him. "--right up that nice, firm ass of yours."  
  
Leland looked away from him, trying not to let the storm bubble to the surface.

"I led my uncle to die," he said. "I kept Ethan from learning about his birthright. You turned on me, and I still did what you asked, except for killing Ethan."  
  
The cameras set up sporadically in the lodge had not caught Ethan's small burst of power, or Vanhorn's speech, and so Dorland did not know the truth.  
  
"Should I be grateful?" Dorland asked cynically. "Do you want the power, Leland? Is that it? You think I would give it to _you_?"  
  
"You said you would."  
  
"I don't care what I said!" He stopped feeling the man up and wrapped a hand around his neck. "You have no right to make demands of me, is that clear?”  
  
Leland said nothing. Dorland squeezed his throat harder.  
  
" _Is that clear_?"  
  
Leland spit into his face. Dorland backhanded him. He stood up, brushing his hand on his pants as if Leland were contaminated.  
  
"Worthless trash," he growled. "I take it back, Thomas never should have touched you. You know why? He's too good for you."  
  
"Is that why you came here?" Leland asked. "Are you jealous, Dorland? Did you want him for yourself?"  
  
Dorland slapped him across the face once, then again. The cracks were as loud as gunshots in the quiet room. Leland gritted his teeth as pain exploded through his face. His head was pounding, ears ringing. The outrage of being bitch-slapped by this man made him shake.  
  
"I came because of this." Dorland removed a paper from his pocket and pressed it onto Leland's chest.  
  
Leland only needed a glimpse to recognize it as his hit list. Every target on it was a member of the Oro. The mayor's name was crossed off, and the remaining were:  
  
"Farrell, Magic Man, and Ethan Thomas," Dorland read, running a finger down the list. Again, he was leaning his face close to Leland's. "Plan to decapitate them, too? Serial Killer X?"  
  
"It depends on my mood," Leland said with a wry smirk.  
  
"Ah ha." Dorland removed a combat knife from the sheath clipped to his belt. "You know, how would _you_ like to be cut into little pieces, SKX?" He brought it to Leland's neck. "Would you like that? Huh? Get a rise out of it?"  
  
"I didn't know you were the role-playing type, Agent,” Leland said lazily. “Did you bring the leather?"  
  
"Tch." Dorland cut through the straps tying Leland down. "Get up."  
  
Leland pulled himself out of bed, rubbing his arms. Although he was still foggy from medication, he had rested enough to be functional. Dorland threw him his clothes, and he looked up at him questioningly. Dorland made no effort to explain, turning his back and crossing his arms as Leland got up to dress.  
  
"I get it now," Leland said, removing the hospital gown. "You want me to finish the list, don't you? Get rid of Farrell, so he can't help Ethan anymore, then see if I can finally succeed at getting rid of Ethan for you, or at least trip him up a little."  
  
"Yeah.” Dorland turned to him, not caring that Leland was still undressed. “And you better be grateful I still have a use for you."  
  
"Always happy to be used," Leland muttered.  
  
"Stupid fag."  
  
Dorland stormed out. Leland wondered if watching his activity with Ethan through the cameras had caught more of Dorland's attention than Dorland had wanted. Whatever the case, he was just happy to be free.  
  
Leland had no trouble maneuvering his way through the SCU. It was bizarrely empty. Down the hall, he ducked into an office to avoid a couple of workers. He might not have bothered, they passed by with glazed expressions, zombie-like. Inside the office, something went ringing in Leland's head. He felt that weird sense of slow-motion as he walked, and it got stronger as he neared a painting on the wall. He tore it off to find one of the Oro's sound wave manipulation devices. The man angrily picked up a chair and smashed the machine, stopping its effect.  
  
"They're controlling the entire bureau from the inside?" Leland murmured to himself in awe. "Hmph. Politics . . . " He glanced around, staring for a long while at the flag on the wall. "Well, well, well. We're screwed."  
  
As he wandered the building, Leland felt a strong sense of isolation and unimportance. So much as he loved his street life, he always had been jealous of Ethan's political power. He was an outsider, one that could not function with the masses, and that severely hindered him. He was antisocial, destined to forever be labeled 'insane' because of it. His brilliance would never amount to much more than a sensationalist true crime story. _Let society go to hell because of the Oro, then,_ he thought vindictively. _I only wish I was a bigger part of it all._  
  
By the time he reached Farrell, Leland was depressed and angry. He waited until Farrell had his back turned to the door and slipped in without a sound. He picked up the letter opener on Farrell's desk. Just as the man turned around, he put an arm around his neck and held the sharp edge to it.  
  
"What the-- How the hell did you get out?" Farrell asked in alarm. "Let go of me!"  
  


"Dorland was kind enough to set me free,” Leland said carelessly. “Your bureau has been very kind to me, Director Farrell. Between his encouragement and Ethan's . . . affection . . . I've done quite well for myself."  
  
"You-- urk. Dorland, that traitor!"  
  
"Mm, I believe he sees _you_ as the traitor," Leland said. "Yes, I know all about your cult and your affairs, Director. As you are aware of, I'm sure."  
  
"Yes, I am aware of exactly who you are, Leland Vanhorn," Farrell said. "I know more about you than you even do."  
  
Leland moved him around the desk, careful not to let the blade slip or give the man a chance to fight back. "What do you mean?"  
  
"What is it you want, Leland?" Farrell asked him. "Do you even know? You have been running around, obsessed with Ethan Thomas, obsessed with our power, killing insatiably, and to what purpose?"  
  
"A higher one."  
  
"You don't even believe your own drivel anymore," Farrell said knowingly. "You don't know, do you? What you want?"  
  
“ _Move_.” Leland pushed him towards the door. He glanced out into the hall. “Go. Shut up and walk.”  
  
"Don't do this," Farrell pleaded. "Ethan needs my help. He needs _you_ , too, Leland. Don't put him in more danger than he's already in."  
  
"Do I care about Ethan's troubles?" Leland asked in a hushed voice as he guided the director through the halls. "It would be better for me if he died."  
  
"You don't want him to die. Especially not by your hand."  
  
"Can't argue that."  
  
"Help him, then," Farrell said. "Don't keep lying to yourself like this."  
  
"I would be lying to myself . . . if I refused to kill you." Leland's nerves were taut and excitement danced in his eyes. He could feel his sadistic demon urging him on. The presence was heavy behind him, making the hand that held the letter opener go white at the knuckles with force.  
  
Farrell lowered his gaze, disheartened. Leland wondered if he could decipher the sound waves, if he knew what they telling Leland to do.  
  
"Am I worth losing Ethan over?"  
  
"Losing Ethan?" sneered Leland. "When did I ever 'have' Ethan?"  
  
"In the cabin."  
  
"He used me, nothing more."  
  
"You might both fight the truth, but neither of you can deny it. Have you even let yourself think the words?"  
  
"Shut _up_." Leland put pressure on the blade and it nicked the man's skin.  
  
"Don't you wonder if Ethan has?"  
  
"I said--"  
  
"You hate each other so deeply, so viciously, yet you're connected. No, I won't call it 'love', Leland, don't worry," Farrell said. "That level of being consumed by one another, however, it may go _beyond_ the concept of 'love'."  
  
Leland yanked his head back, the letter opener cutting more deeply into flesh. A line of blood trickled onto the cold metal.

"That's enough,” Leland said sharply. “ _I_ molded Ethan into what he is today. _I_ made _him_ , not the other way around. If you think he can influence me, that he can somehow change me, then you are sadly mistaken. We are connected, but it isn't by similarity; rather, we are such opposites, it was only natural for us to attract each other. Any similarities we share now are from his being shaped by me, and by your cult's influence."  
  
"You have changed, whether you like it or not," Farrell said. "I suppose it's only too early for you to realize it. But know that if you kill me, Ethan will not stand a chance against Dorland."  
  
They were outside now, in the steamy heat of the summer day.  
  
"Do _you_ even believe your own drivel?" Leland mused. "Ethan will be fine. We both know that."  
  
"You have faith in him."  
  
"Of course," Leland said, affectionate and bitter simultaneously. "He beat me, after all."  
  
Farrell ceased arguing. He could plainly see how Leland felt about Ethan, and it did not help his position any. Leland dragged him through the city, to a familiar place.  
  
 _I never knew if that demon . . . all of those demons . . . control me, or enhance me, or drag me down. The child who wishes to be saved, my only weakness, the remnants of an isolated, beaten-down past . . . The monster who wishes only to kill and hurt, hurt everyone, even myself . . . All the blood, covering the walls, eyes seeing through the crimson hue . . .  
  
The Oro drinks our misery down and spits it back out at us. They're always watching our nightmares. But without . . . without my birthright, the birthright of their brand of hell, I would not be this strong. Neither would Ethan. I don't care what they say, he needs my strength to challenge him, just as I needed his strength to envy and give me something to strive for. We are connected . . . and now . . . in every way humans can connect . . .  
  
There's something comforting about it, and something infuriating at the same time. We'll never be rid of each other, will we? We don't really want to be.  
  
Farrell seems to believe pushing him will split us once and for all. If he was right, would I pull back? __**Could**_ _I pull back? Sometimes, I almost . . .  
  
No. I don't want to.  
  
I want to paint the town red with their blood. The sinners and the powerful. The humans and the barely-human. I just want to kill again._

  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_This world will never be_   
_What I expected_   
_And if I don't belong_   
_Who would have guessed it_   
_I will not leave alone_   
_Everything that I own_   
_To make you feel like it's not too late_   
_It's never too late  
  
~ "Never Too Late" by Three Days Grace_

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_


	12. Chapter 12

Ethan decided to wait for the Oro to make their next move instead of going out after them randomly. Likewise, once he learned Leland had escaped, and Farrell was missing, he was left without any leads to follow. Rosa anxiously waited for Ethan to take the lead as usual but he could not bring himself to. He went home to rest for the storm he knew was brewing beneath the city's teaming underworld.  
  
Days passed. The liquor called to him but he was tired of drinking. He wanted to control his body instead of being led around by the sickening stupor of drunkenness. Every morning he found himself staring down the bottles, unable to eat, hands shaking. Every night he dreamed himself dead, unsuccessfully battling his way through the blackness of his own soul. After a week, he began to see how Leland had gone insane.  
  
The humid summer rains returned. Staring out into the gloom, Ethan found his mind turning to his tormentor/victim. It must have been worse, being a child and bearing all this insanity. Leland was alone and abused and helpless. The visions of those eyes that he still drew, the turmoil of his righteous side and his murderous demon, the confusion of his own uncle violating him, and in the center of it all, his obsession with Ethan . . . a boy who held potential he could never dream of for himself. Love and hate.  
  
Lightning flashed. Ethan did not blink.  
  
 _I've seen that child, not only in his eyes, but in front of me, so real . . . He was so painfully thin, those blue eyes so hungry for a taste of control, a taste of power . . . He wants to destroy himself and everyone else. He wants to be saved and save others. No. He isn't confused. He wants to satiate both sides and is stubborn enough to try to. Get our power for himself, be saved by me, save me, kill me, kill . . . himself?  
  
Leland, do you really want to go that far?  
  
No, you don't, but your demons . . . they do. Maybe Vanhorn was . . . Fuck, I hate to admit it, but maybe he was right. Leland is a puppet, at least partly. They pull him in so many directions, of course he broke. But we're all victims, anyway. This whole world . . .  
  
But especially us._  
  
A shiver ran down Ethan's spine as a cold draft wafted across the back of his neck. He did not have to turn to know his own masked demon was there.  
  
 _'But what do_ _ **you**_ _want, Ethan?'  
  
_ Ethan shut his eyes, exhaling. The rain blew in through the open window, moistening his face. It wasn't refreshing, it felt dirty. The droplets mingled with his sweat.  
  
"I want Leland."  
  
 _'For what? To pull him in ever more directions?'_ The demon came around, masked face contorted and ugly as he looked at Ethan. _'You know what you want? You want a drink. Don't you?'  
  
_ "No."  
  
 _'Sure you do. Dulling the mind makes everything so much easier, doesn't it? Go ahead. Have one. What else are you good for? You've just been sitting around here all week. You realize Farrell is dead, don't you? He's dead, and you've done nothing about it. And not only him. Do you know the number of people Leland must have slaughtered by now?'_  
  
"Shut up. Shut up! Leave me the hell alone!" Ethan shouted, standing and holding his head. "Why don't you just go the fuck away?"  
  
 _'Why would I do that? I'm only helping you.'  
  
_ "No, you're not!" Ethan said. "You, all of you! You just want to destroy us, don't you? That's all you ever wanted."  
  
 _'That isn't true.'_  
  
Ethan's eyes fell on the cabinet where he had shut up all his bottles of liquor. He paced restlessly. The need cramped his stomach and set his nerves on fire.

"Yes it is,” he told the demon. “You're trying to kill me, just like Leland's demons are trying to kill him. But I'm strong, like I told him. I'm stronger than this."  
  
 _'Ohhh, so now you're the big man, are you?'_ the demon mocked him. _'Is this newfound resolve for him? Hm? You want to be the rock that anchors him down, that . . ._ _ **saves**_ _him? Ha ha ha. Oh, Ethan, you really were better off making love to the bottle . . . '_  
  
"Fuck you." Ethan staggered closer to the cabinet. "Fuck you!"  
  
 _'You think being addicted to sex is better? Sex with serial killers? Have a drink. Just run away like you always do. Rememdium. How are you supposed to heal anyone when you're not strong enough to save yourself?'  
  
_ Ethan flung open the cabinet and yanked out a bottle of vodka. He unscrewed the cap. Maybe the demon was right. Maybe he should just forget them all. Wouldn't it be better than just rushing headfirst into danger after danger, knowing it would end only with death?  
  
 _'Just drown it. Drown it all. Alone.'_  
  
Ethan put the bottle to his lips and let the liquor flow into his mouth. It was raw and strong, warming his entire body. But this time, nothing dulled. He threw the bottle across the room, where it shattered and spilled all over the floor. He pulled more bottles out of the cabinet, shattering them on the kitchen countertops. The room began to reek of spirits. Ethan turned to face the demon.

"No. Not this time. You're not going to keep winning, you fucking bastard."  
  
The figure did not speak. Ethan picked up a broken bottle. "Go away. Get the fuck out of my head! NOW!"  
  
 _'You are a fool, aren't you?'_  
  
The demon struck him, and he felt it. The room went colorless, unreal. Even his pain felt unnatural. Nonetheless, Ethan went at him with the bottle. The apartment was destroyed as they fought, the inertia of the environment holding him back, everything blurring. It would have been easy to give up. He wanted to let the demon win, just drink off the pain, just drown away the hardness of it all . . . but he couldn't. He couldn't stop his body from fighting back, but ironically, he had never felt so in control.  
  
The demon finally fell. Everything went blurry. At last, the figure was blotted out by shadow, then vanished. He was dead. Ethan had won.  
  
A knock on the door woke Ethan. The apartment was still wrecked but he was sleeping normally on the sofa. He pulled himself up, rubbing his face. No hangover. His hands had stopped shaking. It had been a year since he had felt the freedom of sobriety.  
  
Rosa was waiting outside the apartment, he let her in. She looked around the apartment curiously but did not question its state. "We have a lead."  
  
Homeless people had been vanishing around the abandoned school where Ethan had once chased both Leland and another serial killer called 'The Torturer'. There were reports of the usual paranormal and drug activity in the school, all the urban dramatizations that usually followed the most twisted killers. It had to be Leland.  
  
"What will you do?"  
  
 _What kind of question is that?_ Ethan wondered. _Does she think I'd actually let Leland run wild, just because I sympathize with him?_  
  
"I'm going after that sick son-of-a-bitch," Ethan said defensively. "What else would I do?"  
  
"I didn't mean--"  
  
"Oh, I get it. Am I going to kill him?"  
  
Rosa nodded, not intimidated by his sudden bad attitude. Their relationship had been strained over the past week, to say the very least. It hurt now that he was sober enough to see just how quickly and completely they had fallen apart. But maybe it was for the better, with Ethan being so damaged. Even if he had defeated his demon and alcoholism, he still felt strongly for Leland Vanhorn, AKA Serial Killer X.  
  
"No, I'm not," Ethan said honestly. "I hated Vanhorn. Still do. But he was right about some things."  
  
Rosa's eyes wandered to his mutilated hand, and he self-consciously curled his remaining four fingers into a fist to make the stub less visible. Just seeing the injury made Ethan eager to get his hands on Leland, but these days the anger was less than murderous.  
  
"Leland went through a lot," Ethan said, moving to the window to avoid her shrewd gaze. "He's broken, that's all. I just . . . I don't want to kill him. Stupid son-of-a-bitch'll probably get himself killed, anyway, but it won't be by me. Not yet."  
  
Rosa crossed her arms, looking around the apartment. "You understand what that means, don't you?"  
  
Ethan stared out into the rain, watching a circle of crows flying above. He did not ask, did not need to. Rosa told him anyway.  
  
"Leland Vanhorn is a cunning, clever, ruthless man. He won't stop killing." Rosa shook her head. "He won't ever be held for long, either. By letting him live, you're . . . you're enabling him, Ethan."  
  
Ethan shut his eyes. _I know._  
  
"People will die. Can you live with that?"  
  
"I didn't make him a murderer, okay?" Ethan said, turning to her. "I wanted him dead, Rosa, you know that. I wanted him dead, and he wanted me dead, but we never killed each other. Yeah, we came close, real close, but something always stopped it. We've saved each other, several times by now. I can't just act like none of it matters, because it does. It's stupid and crazy, but it _matters_. He matters to me."  
  
"But you don't matter to him."  
  
"You don't know that," Ethan said in annoyance. "I think that I do. I think I always have."  
  
"Are you sure you're not just holding onto him because of your shared history?" Rosa asked. "You said yourself that you never had a real identity or past, and now you do, and he's part of it. Is that why you're holding on so tightly?"  
  
"Maybe it's part of it," Ethan admitted, "but it's more than that. He isn't just part of my past, he's part of my life. He's destroyed my life: burrowed inside it and taken it over piece by piece, like a parasite. No, like poison, poison I keep . . . " Ethan shut his eyes. "I don't know, Rosa. I don't know why I do this to myself, all right? I don't know what you want from me anymore. What can I say? I want him. I . . . I want him alive. That's it."  
  
"You want him for yourself? Ethan?"  
  
"It doesn't even matter what I want or not," Ethan said. "We belong to each other. He _belongs_ with me, to me." He nodded. "Because I won. I'm stronger now, and I beat him. Now he's mine."  
  
Rosa's eyes were wet, and she turned her face. _I don't know him anymore. I trusted him for so long, believed in him. No, I still do. Don't I?  
  
_ "And I'm sorry if that isn't what you wanted to hear," Ethan apologized. "But you deserve more than thin lies and bullshit, Rosa. I owe you at least that much."  
  
She nodded but kept her back to him. For long minutes, the only sound was the patter of rain beating down the building. The smell of ozone mingled with that of liquor.

"The new director wants you to head to the school immediately,” Rosa said tonelessly. “Farrell's disappearance and SKX's escape has him through the roof."  
  
"Can you tell anything about this guy? The new director?"  
  
"No. I can't get a reading on him."  
  
Ethan nodded. Neither of them had it in them to try to ease the heavy discomfort between them. Rosa drew a breath and turned towards the door. She did not look at Ethan again.  
  
"I should get back to the bureau."  
  
"Yeah. Sure. I guess I'll be going after Leland again."  
  
He headed for the door. She stopped him with a hand on his arm. Her hand was so small and delicate against his massive arm. Funny, he had never really noticed. Rosa was a strong woman, the rock anchoring him to sane life. He depended on her strength so much that he never stopped to consider her vulnerabilities.  
  
"Call me. I'm not going to stop helping you, Ethan. I'll be there."  
  
"Rosa . . . "  
  
She smiled sadly at him, then hurried out. Ethan watched her, lumbering out at a slow pace. For just a moment, he wondered what might have happened if he had been closer to her. He remembered the sight of her casually letting down her hair in the safety of her clean, warm apartment.  
  
What if he had let himself get close to her, despite not being worthy? What if he had loved her, despite not knowing what love really was? All this with Leland never would have happened. Could he have convinced himself that he was normal, just enough to get by with her? Could she have saved him? And if she had, who would have saved Leland?  
  
 _He doesn't deserve me, but I don't deserve her,_ Ethan thought. He left the building, rain soaking his hot skin. The humidity shrouded the murky streets in fog. _But what about Rosa? Doesn't she deserve more than this? I'm just . . . using her. I need her, the same way Leland needs me. We're all going around and around in these fucking circles, just taking what we need from each other. Hell is wrong with me? Why do I keep running around in the same pattern? It's just going to swallow us all up in the end . . ._

  
Ethan looked up at the birds again. They had perched on the power lines and building ledges. Their black eyes studied him as they shook their feathers in the rain, cocked their heads.  
  
 _That's what they want. The Oro. Everything to be consumed into their control . . .  
  
Remedium . . .  
  
Maybe one day . . .  
  
But who will be around when it all ends? If we all die, all of us, even myself, I wouldn't care. But Rosa . . . she's the only one who really deserves . . . salvation. Rosa, and all the normal people, the good ones. There's still a handful of them left in the world, right?  
  
That's why I keep going, even if I keep breaking off pieces of myself while I go. I can't stop. Not now. I've come too far, fought too long, to give up on everything now.  
  
As for Leland . . . I can't stop myself, but I __**can**_ _stop him. And I will. If it comes down to it, I guess in the end, I . . . will have to stop him forever . . . If I can't save him._


	13. Chapter 13

Ethan had hoped never to return to the empty school. It was full of violent vagrants, junkies looking for a fight, and the creatures that crawled the city's underbelly. It hadn't changed in a year. Or was it worse, like everything else in the godforsaken city?  
  
Walking in through the back, into the locker room he had once searched for a victim in, Ethan drew a breath. His name was written all over the walls in blood, huge letters swiped in clear print, along with various other ramblings. Leland was here, all right, and he wanted Ethan to know it.  
  
 _No. No, no, no. Not a chase. Fuck no. God._  
  
Nonetheless, Ethan ventured into the school. It took some fighting to get around, but he handled himself. Without being drunk, he was actually stronger, more aware of his actions. It felt good to be in full control. _He_ felt good. Then he found a sight so grisly he actually wanted a drink again.  
  
There was a makeshift laboratory set up in an old classroom, full of torture devices and caged animals. This must have once been the Torturer's lair. Though that monster had been put to rest by SKX a year ago, the lab was in use again. In a cage, a vagrant was having spasms and whimpering as electrical currents crackled through his body. Wires were sewn into his skin. Now Ethan knew where the missing people had gone.  
  
"Damn it, Leland," Ethan muttered disgusted horror. He punched a wall. "Damn it!"  
  
There was nothing to do but put the homeless man out of his misery. He then sent as much data to Rosa as possible, and moved on. He already knew what Leland was doing before Rosa responded to him: trying to harness the Oro's power. The bums had metal pieces inserted into their bodies, their throats were cut up and scarred. Leland wanted to figure out a way to give ordinary people the power, so he could claim it for his greedy self.  
  
 _My patience is pretty much dead,_ Ethan thought furiously as he fought through the school. _I can't let him keep going. Rosa was right. I'm just enabling his fucking psychotic shit. Sooner or later, he's got to die._  
  
In the cafeteria, Ethan found Farrell. At first, he thought the man was dead, being sliced open from the base of his neck and down his chest nearly to the stomach. Then he stirred and his eyes shot open.

"Ohh . . . Agent . . . Agent Thomas,” he groaned. “You came. Get me-- Get me out of here."  
  
Ethan looked around, wondering why Leland hadn't shown up. Had he gone out to procure more victims or was he lurking close by, waiting for an opportunity? Ethan fetched a carving knife and cut the restraints from Farrell. The man sat up wearily, though he was not acting as wounded as he looked.  
  
"That bastard's had me here for days, I . . . Help me down, would you?" Farrell took Ethan's arm and eased himself off the steel table. "Let's get out of here."  
  
Ethan led him out. There were many things he wanted to ask, but he wasn't sure how to go about asking them. Part of him still did not trust Farrell.  
  
"Oh, Christ."  
  
In the gymnasium, the local hoods had set up a caged fighting arena. Ethan went ahead first, trying to find a way down that wouldn't get their attention. But as he walked, that sick inertia returned, and his head began to hurt. "Mmph . . . A . . . Agh!"  
  
Something pushed him down. Farrell? He couldn't tell and he didn't have time to look up. The thugs jumped him, probably thinking he was another one of them, as he wasn't in uniform. They were brutal, some of the street's best fighters, and it took a lot of effort to clear them off, let alone take them down. Ethan was trembling with adrenaline by the time he put his fist through the last one's face.   
  
"Ethan? Are you all-- urk!"  
  
Ethan looked up, head still spinning, to see Dorland grabbing Farrell.  
  
"Well, well, the traitor lives," Dorland sneered. "How many times is that Serial Killer X going to disappoint me?"  
  
"Dorland? You! You're the one who let him out, aren't you?" Ethan called up. "You fucking bastard!"  
  
"Hmph. What else is Leland Vanhorn good for?" scoffed Dorland. "Other than a cheap fuck to a worthless drunk."  
  
"Dorland!"  
  
"You should have been watching your own ass instead of worrying about Leland's," Dorland told Ethan, shaking Farrell. "Or maybe you like being used, too?"  
  
"That isn't true!" Farrell exclaimed desperately. "I haven't been using anyone. Ethan, I've been protecting you! For God's sake, I'm the only one in the Oro that wants you alive!"  
  
"Yeah, alive and in your control, you piece of shit," Dorland said, kicking the man in the stomach. "All your bureaucracy, your obsession with this country and its ripeness. There are more important things. For all your high ambitions, you're actually blind. All you see is your own importance."  
  
"Ethan, don't listen to him!"  
  
"Ethan already knows. Don't you?" Dorland said. "I've seen the way you look at this scum. Even you aren't stupid enough to believe his lies."  
  
Ethan was dizzy. The more Dorland spoke, the more everything spun in a blurry haze.  
  
"He knows what a worthless coward you are."  
  
Farrell was thrown into the arena, and fell on hand and knee in front of Ethan. The noise was somewhere between white noise and whispered static, making Ethan feel like his ears would bleed. He held his head, but couldn't feel it. The urge to kill Farrell exploded in his mind and body. He literally saw red as the edges of his vision went black. _  
  
_"Ethan, please!" Farrell begged. "I knew your parents. I would have helped them, if I could have. You have to believe me."  
  
"No, no! You're a fucking . . . fucking liar!"  
  
"No!"  
  
"Not that it really matters anymore," Dorland was saying above. "Rememdium will die, and it shall be by my hand. It's the soldiers' turn to fight this battle, Farrell. No more bullshit and red tape. The Oro has always been above that."  
  
"No, you can't-- No!"  
  
The noise worsened, and Ethan felt his body shaking. Was it him screaming? Dorland? Both of them? Or was it just that terrible noise?  
  
Farrell shook, and then his head exploded. Ethan could barely process it, and bullets came flying down around him. He might have collapsed, but a hand grabbed him by the arm. Turning, he came face-to-face with Leland.  
  
"Go, _go_ , stupid!" Leland said angrily. He yanked him out of the arena, through some passage only he knew about. They stumbled out into the misty rain and Leland threw Ethan aside. The two flattened themselves against a wall as agents ran to the door beside them.  
  
Their eyes met and they shared an incongruously intimate look. Running and hiding among the streets and shadows, haunted by so many demons, watched by the cult . . . They really had become alike. The understanding passed between them in the short moments before the agents came flooding out of the building.  
  
Between Leland and Ethan, none of them had much chance. Once their fighting was over, Ethan grabbed the murderer, and slammed him into a wall. Leland scowled, not in the mood to be handled so roughly. He struggled, forcing Ethan to slam him again and pin him there.  
  
" _Listen_ to me!" Ethan growled. "I saw your fucked-up little lab, Leland. You really think the Oro's gonna let you use them all for science projects?"  
  
"Are you worried about me, Agent Thomas?"  
  
"As much as you were worried about me back there."  
  
Ethan's guard had dropped, and Leland used the opportunity to knee him in the stomach. He grabbed Ethan and then held him to the wall, a knife pointed at his throat. He had obviously been working, wearing no shirt save for a black apron, and black gloves. Blood stained the gloves, apron, and his black jeans. He was clean-shaven and had buzzed his hair short.  
  
"That wasn't worry," he insisted. "It was . . . a future investment." He ran the knife down Ethan's neck, grazing his skin lightly. "Right here, I'm going to cut you up. Right in that 'fucked-up' lab, I'm going to find your secret, and rip it out of your throat."  
  
"I don't think so, Leland."  
  
"Tch. We'll see."  
  
With that, he ran off. Ethan rubbed his neck, the thin red line stinging. Irritated, he took off after Leland.

Leland looked back over his shoulder. _Believe it or not, I_ _ **don't**_ _enjoy this,_ he thought. _Not as much as he thinks I do. Why is he so damn fast? Where's the stumble? Is he even drunk? He didn't smell like alcohol at all. Shit._  
  
They went down the alleys, through the slums. Leland found cover in an old, empty bowling alley, disappearing. He knew he should leave Ethan, run as fast as he could away, but he crouched down to watch him from behind the lanes. He had anticipated the chase, and planned the route into the alley. He couldn't help himself, he just loved watching Ethan bumble along after him. His heart was racing, eyes wide from the rush, a sick smile on his face.  
  
He had left the list of his intended victims on a scorecard, and it was projected onto the ceiling above the lanes. Ethan found it, read it with a disgusted grimace. Leland grinned.  
  
As if sensing his mirth, Ethan looked directly at the lanes. He curled his fists and ambled towards them. Leland stepped back, then turned and ran.  
  
In a storage area, Ethan caught up to him. He had learned a bit from SKX, and sneaked in without a sound. Leland looked around, dismayed to have lost track of him.  
  
Ethan got his chance when Leland went to move again, pouncing on him from the shadows. Leland fought him back, but was caught off-guard. The knife slipped, barely slicing Ethan's pants leg. Ethan took him by the wrist immediately and twisted his arm behind his back. He wrapped his other arm around Leland's neck, succeeding in restraining him.  
  
"You _owe_ me, Thomas," Leland said angrily. "Can't you just leave me alone? You have bigger things to worry about."  
  
"Yeah, well, you're all I worry about lately."  
  
Leland stilled. "What?"  
  
Ethan turned him around and slammed him against the wall, facing himself. "What am I going to do with you, huh? Dorland sounds like he's pretty fed up with you."  
  
"Turn me in and you'll be fucking a headless corpse, Thomas."  
  
"Sometimes that doesn't seem like such a bad idea.”  
  
"You sick, twisted--"  
  
Ethan cut him off with a rushed, pressing kiss. Leland could feel all the longing the past week of separation had let build up boiling to the surface in them both. He had been so distracted with his experiments that he hadn't even realized how much he had been left desiring his nemesis. He kissed back, long and hard, as their bodies drew closer.  
  
"Let me go," Leland said breathlessly. "You care about me so much? Then you'll let me go. At least I'll have some kind of a chance."  
  
"You'll be safer with me."  
  
"I am not a weak child in need of a savior anymore, Thomas," Leland told him. "I'm the one that shaped you, that led you to realize your potential. You would be nothing without me. _I_ am the strong one, Ethan, not you."  
  
"I know you want to believe that, Leland, but it's just not true."  
  
Leland twitched.  
  
" _You_ need _me_."  
  
"Stop saying that," Leland warned. "Stop saying it!"  
  
“Or what?” Ethan touched his face. "If you just stopped being such a damn coward--"  
  
"I'm not a coward! I'm going to defend myself! Let go of me!"  
  
"You can't defend yourself! Not against them!" Ethan yelled. "You weren't born with that power, Leland, and you're never going to have it! You could cut up all of us, and it wouldn't make a difference! You're **not** going to ever have it!"  
  
Hurt flickered in Leland's eyes. He bowed his head like a scolded little boy.  
  
"So can't you just stop? Just accept it." Ethan kissed the man's neck. "Let me help you, okay?"  
  
Their lips met in a wide, deep kiss. Leland bit him. Ethan let go of Leland to wipe blood away. Leland took the opportunity to knee him in the stomach and push him off.

"I don't NEED you to help me," Leland said furiously. He picked up a pipe and struck the man over the back. "I don't need you, and I don't want you. Stay the hell away from me."  
  
"Ugh. Leland, you fucker!"  
  
SKX hit him over the head, making everything spin. The murderer's smug satisfaction did not last very long. Ethan looked up just in time to see an arm go around his neck.  
  
"What the-- Dorland?"  
  
Leland's eyes went wide with fear as Dorland put a pistol to his temple. "Dorland, you . . . Come on, I led him into your trap, didn't I? You're the one that let him get out."  
  
"You _led_ him out of it," Dorland pointed out. He kicked at Ethan. "That's okay. I have what I need, don't I? Huh? Your little bitch here?"  
  
Ethan stood, holding his head. "What? You think I care if you shoot that motherfucker? Go ahead, waste him."  
  
"Real nice, Thomas," Leland muttered.  
  
 _He's cute when he's sulking,_ Ethan noted. _How the fuck am I noticing shit like that in a situation like this? He must've hit me harder than I thought. Everything's weird. Fuck, I feel drunk again._  
  
"You talk tough, but it's just talk," Dorland said. "Both of you."  
  
Ethan watched them both, trying to catch an opening. Leland caught the look in his eye, nodded fractionally in understanding. For once, he was very hesitant. Ethan felt almost sorry for him. Leland was still very terrified of the power Malcolm Vanhorn had used to keep him prisoner for so many years.  
  
"Don't even think about it," Dorland told them. He cocked the barrel of the gun. "Either of you move, and he's gone."  
  
"I don't get it, Dorland," Ethan said. "Why not just kill us right here? Why the bullshit?"  
  
"He's more attached to me than he thinks," Leland said. "Aren't you, Dorland?"  
  
"Shut your damn mouth, you fucking filth.” Dorland shook him. “I'm taking him, Thomas. You want to go ahead and risk your life to save this scum, it's your funeral. Don't show up, and it's his. Fuck do I care? You don't have a chance, anyway."  
  
 _He doesn't want to fight me here, alone,_ Ethan thought. _Why? Does he need something, someone, more to take me on?_  
  
Leland gave Ethan a prompting look. Then, he elbowed Dorland in the ribs, ducking out from his grasp. Ethan grabbed the gun from his hand and punched him.  
  
"No, you idiot!” Leland gasped. “Use your--"  
  
It was too late. Dorland kicked Leland in the stomach, knocking him aside, and then went for the gun. He and Ethan struggled, and the thing went off. Pain shot through Ethan's side, and he slumped. Dorland stood, kicking him aside, and grabbed Leland again.  
  
"Heh. So much for Rememdium," scoffed Dorland. He kicked Ethan in the throat. "Let's go, _Serial Killer X_."  
  
Ethan caught a glimpse of a very troubled Leland being dragged off, but couldn't remain conscious any longer. His last thoughts were that he should have felt relief . . . but didn't.


	14. Chapter 14

"Ethan? Ethan! Ethan, wake up!"  
  
Ethan awoke to Rosa's shaking. He waved her off and coughed. His head was throbbing.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," he said wearily, getting up. He was still in the bowling alley, Rosa kneeling beside him, LeRue standing nearby. "Where's Dorland?"  
  
"Dorland? We don't know anything, just that everyone is going crazy at the bureau," Rosa said. "Everyone is after you."  
  
"We didn't tell them we knew where you were, or that we were coming, though," LeRue said. "Man, it is getting crazy. The whole city's falling apart faster than ever, and the bureau's just worried about finding you. Either I'm being pulled into your paranoia, or there is some major conspiracy bullshit going on."  
  
"Dorland was here, he took Leland." Ethan got to his feet, rubbing his head. "He's baiting me."  
  
"With a scum like SKX? Is he nuts?" LeRue asked in amusement. "Why the hell would you go running into a trap for that bastard?"  
  
Rosa and Ethan shared a moment of uncomfortable silence.  
  
"You're kidding me, right?" LeRue asked. "You're going to try and save that piece of shit?"  
  
"I need to get rid of Dorland, no matter what," Ethan said. "I need answers, and-- You know what? Fuck it. I don't owe anyone any more explanations, okay? You guys don't trust me, fine, just stay out of it."  
  
He kicked through the piles of trash in the old bowling alley, trying to get an idea of what to do next. His eyes fell on a paper on the ground, and he knelt to pick it up.  
  
"I never said a thing, Ethan," Rosa said angrily. "But you do owe us. You owe us, especially me, a lot. I know you've been all sensitive about SKX, but I think by now you'd know you can trust us. That you can trust me."  
  
"I gave you my reasons, Rosa," Ethan said distractedly, looking at the paper. "Want me to share? Fine, I can share." He turned to them both. "And I didn't even tell you this, Rosa. I wasn't going to."  
  
Rosa was suddenly reticent to hear his confession. LeRue was merely confused.  
  
"We f--” Ethan couldn't bring himself to say it that bluntly. He shifted on his feet, rejecting every damn term there was for it. Finally, he just said, “We're lovers."  
  
LeRue's jaw dropped. Rosa's eyes watered. Ethan wanted to disappear. _Can't believe I'm doing this. But she's right. They deserve as much as the truth._  
  
"You slept with Leland?" Rosa asked in shock. "Ethan, you-- Why? Wh-- _How_? How could you do that? After everything he's done to you?"  
  
"At first, it was just this fucked up sadistic thing," Ethan explained. "I wanted to hurt him, hurt him in every way possible, bring him down."  
  
"Like a prison bitch," LeRue commented.  
  
"But then, I . . . I don't know. It's not love, I still hate the bastard, but . . . " Ethan sighed, scratching his thick black hair. "It's obsession. It is."  
  
"Sounds more like an addiction to me." LeRue caught a furious look from Ethan and held up his hands. "Sorry, sorry."  
  
"He's right," Rosa said. "Ethan, I stood by and watched you lose yourself to alcohol, but this--"  
  
"I'm not drinking anymore, Rosa."  
  
"Oh? When did you quit?"  
  
"This morning."  
  
"Yeah, well, congratulations on a few hours of sobriety." Rosa shook her head. "Sorry. But I hated seeing you drink your life away, and this is worse. Leland **will** kill you."  
  
Ethan shrugged. "Or I'll kill him."  
  
"Don't you know how stupid you sound?" Rosa yelled, temper finally breaking. "At least if you loved the guy, fine, but you don't! So what is it? You still want to hurt him? You want to own him? What?"  
  
"Rosa--"  
  
"You are just like Vanhorn!" Rosa shouted. "I don't care about any of this cultist _shit_ , or the city, or anything else! This is on _you_ , Ethan! Just you!"  
  
"Rosa!"  
  
Too late, she was gone.  
  
"Great. Just fucking great." Ethan looked at LeRue. "Feel free to join her."  
  
"I don't know, I don't know what to think about any of this.” LeRue thought for a moment. “Shit, man . . . _You're_ gay?"  
  
“That's all you got?” Ethan laughed, shaking his head. "Christ, that's the last thing I needed to hear right now."  
  
"You just didn't seem the type, you know?” LeRue said, mystified. “I'm not making this better, am I?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Look, Rosa will come around," LeRue said. "We all do crazy things for stupid reasons, sometimes. I can understand that, even if your reasons are pretty fucked up even by this city's standards."  
  
"Thanks, LeRue."  
  
"Hey, it's your life," LeRue shrugged. "I mean, it's not like you're planning on just letting the guy run around killing people because he's your bitch . . . are you?"  
  
"No, LeRue. I honestly just want him locked back up in the asylum," Ethan said. "But I do want him alive, that's all."  
  
"And Dorland dead. Well, for the latter reason, I'm still in," LeRue said. "I owe that guy for some shit."  
  
"I think everyone does."  
  
"You know where to find him?"  
  
"I think I know where to find out where to find him." Ethan looked down at the paper, Leland's list of future victims. "Mind giving me a ride?"  
  
"No problem."  
  
 _LeRue's loyalty is a surprise. I haven't known him nearly as long as Rosa, and if I were him, I wouldn't trust or like me very much right now. But he didn't judge me like I expected him to, and he didn't freak out like Rosa. Maybe it's_ _ **because**_ _he hasn't know me very long that he can be this way.  
  
Rosa is different. She's been there since this whole thing started. Not only has she been there, she's been there __**for me**_ _. It isn't just my life to her, it's the life she's done so much to keep, the life she cares about. And it scares her. I can tell she's confused. Just like I'm not used to caring about Leland, she isn't used to caring about me. Maybe we've both been alone too long.  
  
_ Despite his guilt, for the first time, Ethan did not think back to the night in her apartment. He didn't regret not choosing her. He wished he could give her more, but this time he knew that he never could have. The moments with Leland had laid his lust for him bare, and he had come to terms with it.  
  
They drove down to an old theater in the slums. The third name on the list, Magic Man, referred to the strange man that lived there. Ethan had heard about his twisted 'magic shows' now and again during his nights spent in the bars. He had no idea why Leland would be targeting him, but Leland had dropped the scrap of paper with the names to leave him a hint. Besides, Ethan didn't have any other leads.  
  
"LeRue, I'm going in alone," Ethan told him. "I've already jeopardized your position at the SCU, it's better if you don't get involved more than you have to."  
  
"You sure?"  
  
Ethan nodded.  
  
"Okay. I'll be out here, then."  
  
Ethan was about to go in when Rosa suddenly appeared in the doorway.

"Ethan, I--" she started sheepishly.  
  
"You don't owe me anything," Ethan said gently. "You don't even belong here."  
  
"I want to be here."  
  
Ethan smiled. "Rosa . . . "  
  
She opened her computer and set it on the counter. "I'll be here."  
  
Ethan was grateful for them both. He just hoped their help would be enough.  
  
As Ethan ventured into the macabre theater, Rosa and LeRue sat at the adjacent bar. They talked briefly, then fell into silence. At one point, LeRue went to investigate some noise outside. Alone in the strange, large room, Rosa leaned her head on her arms. She barely slept these days. When she did manage to sleep, she was tormented by nightmares. _I keep seeing Ethan . . . and I see him dead._  
  
The familiar image that haunted the woman passed through her mind. Her delicate brow furrowed, eyes closed now. She saw a figure that resembled Leland, but with the mouth caged by some metal device, hair buzzed (as it was now, though she had not seen it yet), eyes dilated and strange. She could see him, but Ethan could not. Ethan was staring at someone else, someone she could not see, and she knew he was in pain. But there was nothing she could do but watch as that Leland-demon came closer behind him, knives in each hand, a weird sound echoing around him and distorting time and space. Blood ran down Ethan's eyes and mouth. His throat was ripped open. She could do nothing about any of it.  
  
"Ah!" Rosa gasped, sitting up like a shot. She rubbed her eyes, breathing hard. "Shit. That dream . . . It's always that dream lately."  
  
 _'Oh, it isn't a dream.'  
  
_ Rosa looked up in surprise, but saw no one. She stood, desperately searching the room with her eyes. "Who's there?"  
  
 _'You know who.'_  
  
"I don't know you." She drew her gun. "Okay, whoever it is, just come out, nice and slow."  
  
The female voice laughed, a purring, sultry laugh.  
  
"I mean it!" Rosa barked. "Just come out!"  
  
 _'You're a scared little girl, aren't you? Miss Angel?'  
  
_ Something moved in the shadows, and Rosa pointed her gun. A shapely figure emerged, but it was not a woman. Nor was it a man. The creature was wrapped, or skinned, with rose-colored leather scraps, raw flesh peeking out beneath. Its breasts protruded perversely, naked, arms bond beneath them as if held by an invisible strait jacket. Its feet were like posture boots, clawed at the heels, neck chained, entire body covered with prickly metal spikes. The face was masked except for a fanged, ugly mouth, and blindfolded. She had a ponytail. Something about her silhouette resembled Rosa.  
  
"Who-- What are you?" Rosa gasped in fear. She stepped back, her grip on the gun weakening. "What the hell are you?"  
  
 _'I am you.'_  
  
"No. No, **I'm** me. What are you talking about?"  
  
 _'Ha ha ha. You are blind, aren't you?'_  
  
"What?"  
  
 _'You know me. Otherwise, you would have shot me by now.'_  
  
Rosa shook her head, backing into the counter. _Is this the influence? Is this what Ethan sees? And Leland, and Vanhorn? Is this . . ._  
  
 _'No, I am not one of the Oro. But I_ _ **am the Oro**_ _.'  
  
_ "Get the hell away!" Rosa screamed at her, raising the gun again.  
  
The creature came closer and she fired several shots. They went through the thing without damaging it. Rosa gave a startled cry, dropping the pistol to the floor. The figure brought its ugly face directly in front of hers.  
  
 _'You don't want me to go. You need me.'  
  
_ "No--"  
  
 _'How else will you compete? Hm? How will you survive in the new world?'_  
  
Rosa flinched back.  
  
 _'Can't you see everything changing? It's swallowed up all of them. If you want to be with Ethan, you need to accept it. Embrace it. That's what draws him to Leland, after all.'  
  
_ “Leland?”  
  
 _'Oh, those boys love to let their demons play. Why not join the fun?'  
  
_ "This isn't a game!" Rosa shouted. "Why does everyone keep acting like it's a game? This is real life! This world is really going to hell!"  
  
 _'Oooh, so uptight. Men don't like a stick in the mud.'  
  
_ "I'm only trying to protect him!"  
  
 _'He doesn't want to be protected! He wants to take us on. He enjoys it. And why not find pleasure where we can? Aren't you human?'_  
  
"Ethan is a friend, that's all," Rosa murmured. "I want to keep him safe."  
  
 _'Safe and with you.'_  
  
"No."  
  
 _'Yes. Don't deny it. You want him. You want Ethan for yourself. You always have.'  
  
_ Rosa shut her eyes, and tears fell from them. _I haven't cried in years. No one has made me cry for so long. Damn it!  
  
'You've become strong, is that it? Like a man? Like __**him**_ _?'  
  
_ Rosa gripped the counter, staring into the ceiling high above. The creature brought her face over Rosa's shoulder, speaking into her ear.  
  
 _'But you let yourself be hurt then, and you're letting yourself be hurt now. Not only you, Rosa. Everyone around you. Look at me. Look at me!'_  
  
Rosa could do nothing but obey it.   
  
_'Blind. Restrained. Helpless. For all your knowledge and your career, you've never changed. You're still as pathetic as you ever were.'_  
  
"No! No, don't say that!" Rosa shouted, pushing the demon away. "I'm not! I'm not useless. I saved Ethan! I've been saving him all this time!"  
  
 _'And for what? So he can turn around and save Leland? And who saves you?'_  
  
"I don't need anyone to. I'm fine."  
  
 _'Is that so?'_  
  
Rosa said nothing.  
  
 _'I can give him to you. You know I can. Look at Leland. Look how he embraces his demons, and how that draws in Ethan. It always will. And what? You'll simply sit by watching, hoping he'll just miraculously die, when you know he won't? Silently wishing Ethan will change, when you know he'll only fall more in love with that killer? That murderer?'_  
  
Rosa's face hardened.  
  
 _'And then, one day, it will be Ethan that dies. All your efforts and caring, wasted. Again. Another man takes all you have to give, takes your heart, and just tears it out, leaves you there to bleed. You won't die. You'll just bleed, blindly, tied down to that pain you always keep buried. Do you really want that? Do you really want that again?'_  
  
"I . . . "  
  
"Rosa?"  
  
Rosa lifted her head, dazed. She was sitting at the bar again. LeRue had shaken her shoulder lightly.

"Hey, you okay?" he asked. "You looked like you were having a nightmare."  
  
"I'm . . . Yeah, I was." Rosa sat up, holding her head for a moment. Reality was now what felt unnatural. "I was dreaming."  
  
She looked at her computer screen, and the image of the demon flashed by for a second. Everything blipped with visual noise, like a television losing reception, and then went still again.  
  
"You sure you're okay?"  
  
" . . . Yes. I am." Rosa nodded. "I'm just fine."  
  
Ethan burst in, looking worse for the wear.

"The Oro is at the Peninsula," he announced. "I'll find Dorland there."  
  
"The Peninsula?" LeRue echoed. "That's a ship graveyard. There's nothing out there but urban legends and garbage."  
  
"Perfect place for a cult, then," Ethan pointed out. "Rosa? You okay?"  
  
"I'm fine."  
  
Ethan did notice the look in her eyes, but he was too busy to contemplate it. If he had, he would have recognized it to be the same look Vanhorn had in his eyes before he almost killed Leland. Her large brown eyes were empty, glazed over.  
  
"We can take the junk barge out to the Peninsula," Rosa told Ethan. "If we hurry, we can just make it. LeRue, we'll need you back at the bureau. There's got to be some normal people left, and we're going to need more support than three people."  
  
"Got that. You sure you don't want to go back, and let me go with Thomas, though?"  
  
"No. I'll go."  
  
"Okay. Well, don't get yourselves killed."  
  
"I won't let anyone else get killed," Ethan assured him. "We all set?"  
  
Rosa nodded.  
  
"All right. Let's go."  
  
As the three moved out, they were watched from the shadows high above. A man in a magician's costume was wiping blood from his mouth on a handkerchief. Another came into view, wearing a black hoodie, face pale and pierced.  
  
"You sold them out," he hissed. "They'll have your head for this, Magic Man."  
  
"Traversing the pestiferous streets has made you paranoid, Inferi," Magic Man replied. "Our overzealous Dorland never meant to _not_ be found. That was, I believe, the whole point."  
  
Inferi's inhuman eyes followed Ethan. "Fucking stupid. He should be dead by now."  
  
"Well, I have so much say in it as you, my hapless friend," Magic Man replied. He stood, holding his side as he did. "But why worry about it? I'm certain those more important than ourselves know what they are doing. I daresay they planned it all, sitting back and watching even now with masturbatory smiles on their faces."  
  
“We'll see,” Inferi said, unconvinced. “But if Rememdium survives this, we both know what it will mean."  
  
"Yes, yes, indeed,” Magic Man said sourly. “Well, there is little we can do but watch the show, am I right? See how very fucked up it gets from here."  
  
The two cultists fell silent. They were as nervous as Ethan and his friends were, in all truth. Being of the Oro was no guarantee of having a place in the new world. Everyone was left to take their chances in this last, long game of Russian Roulette now.


	15. Chapter 15

"It's funny how things come together. You live your life, you know, just going along with everyone else, trying not to be crushed under the mundane. You deal with the normal things, ignoring the little buildup of coincidences and strange things. Then you realize everything you fought for didn't exist at all. That it _was_ the little weird events and strings of coincidences that were shaping your life. Things you never knew existed, things you never would have believed in, but that you always knew somewhere deep inside were true. How many people in this world even know the cult's name? But it's been shaping everything, since who knows how long . . . "  
  
On the deck of the junk barge, Ethan and Rosa stared out into the murky sea. The sky was overcast, threatening to spew rain at any given moment. Overhead, a group of crows were circling, cawing down at the two.  
  
"Every time I felt different, it was the truth," Ethan said. "Every time I felt like nothing made sense, it didn't. Every time I felt like I was being persecuted, I was. And every time I felt like I was being watched . . . I was."  
  
"By Leland?"  
  
"By everyone," Ethan said. "Vanhorn, Leland, the entire Oro cult . . . I mean, who knows how many of them I even met? In school, at my job, on the street-- everywhere. And I just went along, blind to it all, just thinking it was all in my head, that _I_ was the only fucked up one."  
  
"I know how you feel." Rosa turned to him. "I don't feel what you and Leland feel, I can't see the things you do. I always felt like I could find all the answers with my job, but it turns out that I don't know anything at all."  
  
"That isn't true, Rosa," Ethan told her. "You've guided me through all this. I never would have found anything out without you."  
  
"I'm sure Leland would have told you, anyway."  
  
"Leland would have just killed me," Ethan said. "I'd never try and deny that. He wanted me to rise to his challenge and beat him, and there is no way I would have been capable of doing that without you."  
  
"Maybe it would have been better if you hadn't."  
  
"What? You think I'd be better off dead?"  
  
"Not dead," Rosa said, shaking her head. "Not dead, I'd never say that, just . . . If you had gone to jail last year, instead of clearing your name by finding Leland, don't you think maybe . . . maybe it would have been easier?"  
  
"It doesn't matter," Ethan said. "I couldn't let Leland get away with all that. I couldn't get away from what I am, either. That whole thing . . . there's no way it wasn't going to happen."  
  
"Okay, so what if you had killed him a year ago? What then?"  
  
"I don't know. Maybe Vanhorn would have killed me, or maybe not," Ethan said. "It's impossible to say. But, Rosa, what might have happened, it's irrelevant. It **didn't** happen. All that matters is making it through today."  
  
"But how are you going to make it anywhere if you don't realize your mistakes?" Rosa asked.  
  
"What are my mistakes, Rosa? What?" Ethan shot back angrily. "Letting Leland live? Is that it?"  
  
"Yes!"  
  
"So you want me to kill him this time," Ethan surmised. "That's what you're saying, isn't it?"  
  
"Yeah. Maybe I am."  
  
"I'm not going to kill him," Ethan said flatly. "I'm not going to keep apologizing for it, either."  
  
Suddenly, the crows descended on them wildly. Rosa and Ethan tried to hit them away but they kept coming. They acted like they were possessed, sharp beaks pecking at the two mercilessly. Ethan felt that rage building up inside him, and finally gave a ringing shout up into the sky. The birds came falling down around them, dead, heads burst apart. Ethan exhaled in relief, turning back to her.  
  
Rosa stared at him in horror. He called to her, but she backed away, and then ran.  
  
 _She looked at me . . . as if I were a monster. Just another killer, like Leland. She's too normal to be entangled in this. I shouldn't have let her come._  
  
Ethan ran after her, through the barge of garbage and decay. He wasn't the only one running.  
  
At the Peninsula, Leland was running through the rooms of discarded ships and vehicles. He had no weapon, nothing but his body to fight with. Everything seemed to run into each other, and the darkness and creaks of the expansive, surreal landfill brought him around in circles. Nonetheless, he let himself think maybe he could get away. He let himself believe that there was some kind of chance.  
  
Then the world exploded, and he felt his body falling in a wash of pain. He hit the floor, and heard a smug chuckle behind him. Dorland came into view, removing a strange helmet from his head. He grabbed Leland by the ankle, dragged him back to wherever he had run out from.  
  
"Tell me, _Serial Killer X_ , do you have a fetish for chase games, or are you really stupid enough to think you can escape?" he asked. "You're way out of your league."  
  
Dorland brought him into a room and slammed him down over a steel table. "If you weren't such a disobedient boy, I would almost feel sorry for you."  
  
"Ethan's not going to come, not for me," Leland said wearily. "Just let me go, Dorland. I'm not of any use to you people."  
  
"How do you know that? I think you could be of great use to me."  
  
He licked Leland's neck, and Leland laughed, still dazed from the pain.

"You plan to keep me as a plaything?" he asked in bitter amusement. "Is that what this is about? You just want to fuck me?"  
  
Dorland looked at him, face unreadable.  
  
"Well, go ahead, Dorland," Leland said. "Go ahead! Hell, I'd probably enjoy it."  
  
"Yeah, you probably would, you sick fuck." Dorland turned him over roughly, so he was on his stomach. "Pathetic tool, just like your parents."  
  
Leland scowled as his wrists were strapped down to the table.  
  
"But I'm not just going to use you, all nice and pleasing, like that fool Thomas," Dorland told him. "How about I play a game you don't like? What about one of your uncle's games? Hm? Would you like that, Leland?"  
  
"Get _off_ me, you pig."  
  
"Not so nonchalant anymore, are you?” Dorland sneered. “What did you call me? Huh? A pig? How about this pig takes you down a notch? Gives you a nice, bare-ass spanking? Would you like that, _SKX_?"  
  
Leland felt the Oro's influence curling around his brain. The physical vulnerability was compounded by the memories they were incessantly forcing him to relive. _Even Dorland's just a tool at this point,_ Leland realized. _The Oro are stringing him along, playing him to play me. They want to destroy us all, make us into low, carnal animals. Fucking shit! Why didn't I see it sooner? We're all just actors in the grand play of Ethan's nightmares. Even me. Damn it._  
  
Dorland was whispering terrible truths and insults into his ear. Leland shuddered, shook his head wildly. No, he wasn't a weak little boy anymore. He was a grown man, and he could take it. He had taken so much worse by now, after all, hadn't he? He had to keep his grip on the present, on reality. He could not give into the influence of the cult's mind control. It may be good for Dorland to lose control. Maybe he could get another chance to escape.  
  
Dorland struck him across the bottom with his belt. A hot line of pain familiarly lit across his skin. Leland winced, set his jaw. _It's not Uncle Malcolm, it's Dorland,_ he reminded himself. _The Oro are using him as a surrogate to torture me. They're still pissed at me, pissed at everything I've done. It's not my uncle, it's not. I'm a grown man. They won't break me. They won't!_  
  
"Oh, don't be so stoic." Dorland struck him again. "Do you think you're strong now? You're not strong. You'll never _be_ strong. All you do is leech off of Ethan's power like a jealous, spiteful _brat_."  
  
 _That's not true,_ Leland mentally defended himself. The belt seared stinging stripes into his flesh. It licked his thighs, his lower back. He bit his tongue, willing himself to stay focused. _It's not true, it's not true, don't let them get to you. Just don't listen. This is just another puppet, it's not your uncle, it's not._  
  
Leland did not see his child-demon, but he heard his voice in his mind. _'You know it's true.'_  
  
"But you can't even do that right," Dorland went on. "Haha! You've made it so easy, Leland. I shouldn't even be punishing you, as much a help as you've been. Stupid tool."  
  
Leland swallowed hard, feeling his eyes grow warm and moist. He felt himself falling back through time, back to that old house he shared with his uncle. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to tether himself to reality. The buzzing noise in the background whined more loudly, assaulting his mind with old memories. The belt stung him over and over relentlessly.  
  
“Why?” The words slipped from Leland's mouth in a childlike whisper. "Why are you doing this?"  
  
"There's never been a 'why'," Dorland said coldly. "There doesn't have to be. You're weak. We're strong. So long as you are surrounded by us, you will suffer. This is your place, Leland. This is where you truly belong.”  
  
Leland's face screwed up and he hissed in pain. Worse, he knew Dorland was right. A small cry escaped him as the belt crossed over a particularly sore spot.  
  
"Why don't you _scream_ for me, Leland?"  
  
The pressure of the sound devices was cutting through him like a knife, as Dorland layered welts on his skin without mercy. Blinking back the tears, he just kept seeing that damned room, hearing that child's voice, _'Your fault. It's your fault. You were born weak. You'll always be weak. You should have just let Ethan protect you. You're not good enough for anything else.'_  
  
“That hurt much, SKX?” Dorland laughed, running a hand over the bruises. "You aren't very dangerous now, are you?"  
  
He moved closer and Leland flinched back.  
  
"No. Get away from me," he murmured, shaking his head. "Get the hell away from me! Don't touch me!"  
  
Dorland laughed harder. When he opened his mouth, it was Malcolm Vanhorn's voice that said, _"But I want to hold you, Leland. Don't you want me to make it better?"_  
  
“NO!” Leland shouted. He felt his fragile control breaking, the years tumbling away. "No! No, stop!"  
  
Dorland chuckled, wrapping his mouth around Leland's neck as the man fought against the restraints. He put a hand on Leland's back to still him long enough to push into him, smirking cruelly as he felt the killer's body fighting against him.  
  
"No, _no_!" Leland sobbed. "No, just . . . get away . . . "  
  
Leland did not submit to Dorland as he had to Ethan but it made no difference. He couldn't get away. And it wasn't only Dorland, it was also Vanhorn, Vanhorn's mutilated body. They were both tearing through him, dirtying him, and he couldn't do anything about it.  
  
Leland stopped fighting, going mentally numb. The light in his eyes faded and died. He didn't know what Dorland was saying, there were too many voices jumbled in his mind. The color faded from everything, and he was on his bed, raped and beaten, weak and small.  
  
And all he wanted, for the first time in his life, was to be saved. But he wouldn't be.  
  
He never would be.


	16. Chapter 16

Ethan limped into the Peninsula, leg badly wounded from battling through the junk barge. There were no safe places, every corner of the city was crawling with monsters and demons and shit. Rosa tried to keep him from going into the Peninsula with an injury, but he got away on his own.  
  
Once he reached the Peninsula, he was greeted by an urban warzone. The SCU agents that were really cultists and influenced people opened fire on him from everywhere, trying to kill him. Dorland was stationed in a helicopter that rained bullets down at him.  
  
 _Kind of flattering they think I'm worth all the effort, let alone that it'll_ _ **take**_ _all this to kill me._ Ethan took down the helicopter with his powers, having to leap out of the way of the explosion. _Is that it? He's dead?_  
  
But Dorland emerged from the wreckage. His face was covered by a strange helmet, and an unnatural aura surrounded him. He disappeared into a scrapped boat, beckoning. Ethan followed. There was no point delaying the inevitable by trying to avoid him. All of this was one giant trap. He came to a room where sound device towers were giving off a dangerous amount of energy. In the center, strapped to a table, was Leland. For a moment, he was so still that Ethan knew he was dead. But then, he writhed in pain.  
  
Something struck Ethan from behind as he was staring down at Leland. More monsters. But there were also masked figures closing in on him. It was a grueling fight, having to stay away from the unseen forces of sound while fending off the attackers. Ethan was knocked down the stairs to the lower part of the room, banging his head on a table.  
  
Standing up, he got a quick glance at Leland, who didn't seem to notice him. The towers were affecting him greatly, and he didn't seem to have much time left. Ethan hit away a cultist, and began to overload one of the four devices. It exploded, and he was overtaken by pain.  
  
 _'It was a mistake!'  
  
'--just like Vanh--'  
  
'Why?'  
  
'He doesn't deserve to live.'  
  
_Ethan struck out blindly, and the pain and voices stopped. He jumped the cultist, pounding him until he felt his skull go mushy. Then he went for the others. He was sick of them and their whispering, buzzing influence. He had gone beyond rage to a place of pure, dark malice. One by one, he attacked the cultists, silencing their cursed voices forever. Once they were all dead, he took care of the rest of the machines. In the refreshing silence, he limped over to Leland.  
  
"Leland? Hey, you okay?"  
  
Leland was staring at the ceiling expressionlessly. Ethan could not help a surge of pity. He shook Leland's shoulder.  
  
"Don't touch me!" Leland screamed. He twisted and turned, trying to free himself. "No, don't touch me! Don't touch me!"  
  
“Hey. Hey!” Ethan took him by the shoulders. "It's me! Calm down! Leland!"  
  
"No, get away! Get away!"  
  
"Leland, what's wrong? Hey--"  
  
Leland gave an animal-like cry, shaking his head wildly from side to side. Tears streamed down his face heavily. His body heaved with sobs.

"Why? Why are you doing this?" he rambled. "No, no, just go away. Go away."  
  
Ethan was stunned into silence. _He's hysterical._  
  
"Leland." He took the man's face in his hands, turning it to himself. "Leland, it's me. It's Ethan. Hey, stop. Leland! Stop!"  
  
Leland quieted, blinking in confusion at him.  
  
"It's me, Ethan. Listen to me, what did they do to you?"  
  
“They're watching us.” Leland stared past Ethan, blue eyes wide with terror. "They're always, _always_ watching us."  
  
"No one's here, Leland," Ethan said firmly. "Hey. It's just us, okay?"  
  
Leland shook his head, mumbling something. Ethan cut through the restraints, helping the man sit up. He noticed Leland winced, hugging himself as if he were cold. Ethan tipped his face towards his own, looking into his eyes for a trace of the cruel, intelligent killer, and finding none.  
  
"Hell did they do to you?" Ethan asked softly.  
  
Leland looked down, saying nothing. Ethan tried questioning him more, but got no response whatsoever. He recalled Vanhorn saying he was 'taciturn' as a child, and figured he'd gone back to being so. It disturbed Ethan to consider what might have caused Serial Killer X to regress to boyhood.  
  
"Okay. We're going to just get you out of here, then. All right?" Ethan helped him down carefully. "Come on."  
  
“No!” Leland pulled back. "No, I-I … I … ”  
  
“It's okay.” Ethan put a hand on his back, and discreetly strengthened his grip on Leland's arm. "I'm not going to hurt you."  
  
Leland followed him, nervous and twitchy like a tweaker. Ethan led him back through the wreckage, hoping to get a helicopter to pick him up outside. Dorland would have to wait.  
  
“Where are we going?” Leland looked over his shoulder. "Why are we leaving them behind?"  
  
"Who?"  
  
“Why are they screaming?” Leland clutched his head in his hands. "What are they doing to them? Let them go! No, let me go! Why are they hurting them?"  
  
Ethan held him more tightly, having trouble pulling him along. He didn't know how he knew, but he asked, "Your parents?"  
  
“What are they doing to them?” Leland fell to his knees, holding his head. "Make them stop! Stop them!"  
  
Ethan turned just in time to see a cultist approaching them. It was the sound making Leland hallucinate. He quickly and viciously took care of the attacker, then knelt beside Leland. The man was hugging his knees, back to the wall. Ethan touched his face. Leland did not react.  
  
 _I don't know what to do,_ Ethan thought helplessly. _I let myself believe him when he said he knew what he was doing. I trusted his strength too far, overestimated him. He has weaknesses. Of course he does, he's just a man, not a demon. He's just a man.  
  
_ Ethan kissed Leland. _I'm going to lose myself in sympathy, damn it. If I was broken to this point, he'd spit on me, or worse. He doesn't deserve this._  
  
Leland stared at Ethan, their eyes finally connecting. _He almost looks like an overgrown boy, with that haircut. Fuck it. I'll regret it later, but I don't care. I just want to . . ._  
  
He embraced Leland in a tight, tender hug. Leland's eyes widened.  
  
"It'll be okay," Ethan murmured into his ear. "It's gonna be all right."  
  
"E-- . . . Ethan . . . "  
  
“Yeah.” Ethan pulled back, holding him by the shoulders. "Yeah. I'm here."  
  
Leland rubbed the side of his head. "I . . . "  
  
"Don't say anything." Ethan helped him to his feet. "Let's get the fuck out of here."  
  
Outside, Ethan sat Leland down, and went to call Rosa. She assured him they would come out with a helicopter, although she got a strange look when he mentioned Leland.  
  
Leland wandered, still dazed. Ethan watched him in glances, but then lost sight of him as his conversation with Rosa went on. By the time he had hung up, he couldn't find the man.

"Leland? Leland!” he called. No answer. “Christ."  
  
Ethan kicked through the trash, then stopped short. Leland was sitting among some glass broken in the gunfire, holding a large shard with his bare hand to his wrist. Ethan could almost hear the voices whispering to the tormented man, knowing they would be urging him to end his life.  
  
"No! Leland!"  
  
Ethan ran up behind him, grabbing him by the wrist. Leland cried out, trying to fight him away. Blood was running from his wrist and palm.  
  
"I thought I was the one you wanted to cut up," Ethan said humorlessly. "Hey, hey. Cut it out. Stop it!"  
  
"Noooooo! Get off me!"  
  
Ethan had to wrestle him to the ground and hold him down. Leland was crying again, snot and tears streaming down his grimy face. Ethan felt his blood hot and slick against his hand. He eased the pressure on his wounded arm.

"Come on, you don't want to die," he said. "You're not like that. It's them. You're letting them in, Leland."  
  
Leland sighed, shutting his eyes briefly. He whined softly, like a dog.   
  
"You don't want to die."  
  
Leland stopped fighting. Ethan climbed off of him and sat. He drew Leland to his side, and Leland leaned his head on his shoulder.  
  
"What did Dorland do?" Ethan asked cautiously.  
  
Leland shook his head, wiping a fist across his nose, smearing blood across his face. He shifted where he sat, cringing again. Ethan brought his hand down Leland's bare back (he was shirtless, after somewhere losing the apron and gloves), into his loose-fitting jeans. On his lower back, going down to his bottom and thighs, were raised welts he could clearly feel. Leland sucked in a breath, and Ethan moved his hand away.  
  
"I'll kill that son-of-a-bitch," he said hotly. He knew that the beating wasn't all Dorland had done. No wonder Leland was in such a state. He never dreamed he would feel protective of Serial Killer X, but the feeling was burning him up, making his fists curl. For once, he didn't even think about his four-fingered hand. "I'm going to fucking kill him."  
  
Leland was staring at his slashed wrist, neither moving nor speaking. There was a rational part of him screaming from inside, furious at his visible fragility, but it was lost among the jumble of voices and imagery.  
  
 _'But he'll save you now. Just let him.'_  
  
Leland felt Ethan's lips on his temple, and he shut his eyes. The loss of blood was making him lightheaded, a relief given his thoughts. He focused on Ethan's closeness, the feel of his hard, big body so close. It felt good. It felt good to be protected.  
  
A helicopter's hum interrupted the moment. Ethan looked up. A ladder dropped. Ethan stood, pulling Leland to his feet. He was hesitant to have the unstable man on a rope ladder, taking him by the wrist.  
  
A glimmer of Leland's usual self came through as he tugged his wrist away.

"No. No, not with them." He swallowed, trying to collect his thoughts. "They're all influenced. I'm not going back. Not to that asylum."  
  
"This is the only way out of here," Ethan told him. "They're not influenced, I promise you that."  
  
"Everyone is influenced!" Leland shouted furiously. "Don't you get it?"  
  
"You'll be safe--"  
  
"No!"  
  
"I'm not going to leave you behind!"  
  
"Ethan . . . " Leland shook his head. "No. Get off me! I said, no!"  
  
"Are you coming up, or am I going to have to knock you out and carry you up?"  
  
“You're still trying to save me, Mr. Thomas.” Leland sighed, rubbing his temples. “Always trying to save me. You're a fool. You're just a naive fool."  
  
"Yeah. I guess I am." Ethan swung him into the ladder. "Go."  
  
Leland scowled back at him, and Ethan prodded him with his taser. " **Go**."  
  
He had to be pushed a bit, but they made it up into the helicopter. Leland's eyes fell on Rosa, and he instantly recognized the look in her eyes.

"They're here,” Leland warned Ethan desperately. “They're here, too."  
  
"Leland--"  
  
Leland shook him off, backing away towards the helicopter door. He could see Ethan's demon, Rosa's, his own, all watching him.

"Can't you-- Can't you just let me die?” he asked thickly. “Let me die already! I told you I was too weak to go on! I told you!"  
  
Ethan knew he was talking more to Vanhorn's memory than to him.

"Just take it easy," he said. "There's no one here. No one is going to hurt you."  
  
Leland took another step back. Ethan had to make a far jump to catch him before he fell out the door. Leland gave a furious shout, fighting him.

"Get me a sedative," Ethan told LeRue as he struggled with the man. "Now!"  
  
LeRue prepared the injection and tossed it to Ethan. He tackled Leland to the helicopter floor and jabbed it into his arm. LeRue brought over a strait jacket. As Leland's muscles slackened, Ethan wrestled him into it.

"It's going to be okay," he told Leland briskly. "I'm going to go down there and kill that fucking Dorland, then we're going to get you some help. It'll be fine."  
  
“No!” Leland protested, twisting and kicking in the jacket. "Get them away. Get them away."  
  
Ethan chained the jacket to a bar on the helicopter wall. He held Leland's face by the cheek.

"Hey. It's going to be over soon. Just trust me. Can you do that?"  
  
Not getting any response, Ethan forgot about the other two for a moment and kissed him. Rosa and LeRue averted their eyes, each for their own reasons. Ethan stood, heading to the helicopter doors. He picked up some supplies from the box nearby, reloaded his guns.  
  
"Hell happened to him, anyway?" LeRue asked. "I know he's mental, but . . . "  
  
"Dorland was torturing him. Probably just to piss _me_ off." _Everyone always gets hurt because of me._ _Parents fucking_ _ **died**_ _because of me, his and mine. All because of this 'Rememdium' shit._  
  
“They have that much power?” LeRue asked. He remembered the first time he had met Leland face-to-face in the back of the truck outside the mountain lodge. It was unnerving to see all that malicious confidence sapped away. “They can just break people like that?”  
  
"They attack from the inside out," Ethan explained, standing up from the supplies box. "You end up attacking yourself out of desperation. His wrist, he … he did that to himself."  
  
"Damn."  
  
"Listen, I have to go back down there, to stop it," Ethan said. "Can I trust you, both of you, with him?"  
  
"Yeah, su--"  
  
"Do you know what you're asking?" Rosa cut LeRue off. "How can you do this?"  
  
"I don't see what the big deal is," LeRue said gently. "He's not a threat like that."  
  
"He'll be a threat until he's dead!"  
  
"Rosa . . . "  
  
"I'm sorry." Rosa sighed, rubbing her temple. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. I know he's important to you, Ethan. I'm not going to . . . to do anything to him. We're not."  
  
"Can you promise me that?"  
  
"Don't you trust me?" Rosa asked wearily. "Yeah, sure, I promise."  
  
"Thank you. It means a lot." Ethan nodded at LeRue. "Both of you."  
  
"Just don't go dying and leaving us up here with SKX," LeRue said. "You hear?"  
  
"I won't."  
  
“Now you promise me.” Rosa put a hand on his arm. “Promise me that."  
  
"I promise," Ethan said with a tired smile. “I'll come back, I promise.”  
  
He went to go again, but she said suddenly, "Ethan."  
  
He turned to her. "Yeah?"  
  
 _Kiss me. This could be the last time I ever see you, so kiss me goodbye.  
  
_ "Good luck."  
  
 _Just like two buddies. And just like that, he's gone._  
  
Rosa slumped against the wall, sighing. Her eyes met Leland's. He was staring at her. She wanted to look away but would not give him the satisfaction. _He's the one Ethan kissed goodbye. If Ethan survives, he's the one he'll come back to. The murderer that started all this in the first place._  
  
"Man, I'd hate to be in his shoes," LeRue said. "Everyone wants to kill him, _and_ he has a death wish. That what this 'Oro' does to you?"  
  
"I guess."  
  
Leland was muttering to himself in the background, and in the silence they could hear him saying, "And the righteous shall pass through to behold a greater glory . . . "  
  
"He always gives me the creeps," LeRue murmured to Rosa.  
  
"His entire journal was full of that stuff," Rosa said. "We'd found it during an investigation. Lots of pictures and paranoia and proverbs-- It seems very dramatic, but it's pretty typical of a serial killer."  
  
"You think Ethan's buying into any of it?"  
  
"No, Ethan isn't insane," Rosa said. "He accepts the truth about the Oro because he couldn't deny it anymore: they **do** exist. But unlike Leland Vanhorn, he can separate fantasy from reality."  
  
"Justice shall come . . . "  
  
"Is SKX really that delusional, though?" LeRue asked. "Ethan used to say he knew what he was doing and didn't care, but he's always talking like he's the 'righteous' one."  
  
"From what I can tell, Leland's always considered himself justified," Rosa said. "That's probably why he could never handle the idea of being punished; he can't comprehend the fact that he might deserve it."  
  
"So he is actually insane?"  
  
Rosa nodded at the strait-jacketed man, babbling to himself and looking off into nowhere.  
  
"I guess so," LeRue said. "Anyway, I gotta talk to the pilot. Be back in a few, okay?"  
  
"Sure, LeRue."  
  
The cabin darkened. Rosa's face twisted into uncharacteristic disgust as she stared at Leland. The female demon appeared beside him, beckoning her. _'Go ahead. Do it. Do it now.'_  
  
Rosa looked away. “No."  
  
It was barely a whisper but Leland heard. He lifted his face and stared at her. This time, she did not meet those strange blue eyes of his.  
  
 _'You say you care about Ethan, but you're still going to stand by and let this man destroy him?'  
  
He isn't a threat anymore.  
  
'He'll be a threat until the day he dies.'_  
  
Rosa's eyes widened, pupils dilating. She stood mechanically, walking over to the man. Leland stared up at her, expressionless.  
  
"You want to die so much?" Rosa said distantly. She removed her pistol from her jacket, aiming it at his forehead. "Do you want to die?"  
  
"They've even gotten to you, Miss Angel?" Leland asked. "Shoot. I won't die."  
  
Rosa readied the gun, eyes glimmering with tears.  
  
"Not in Ethan's mind." Leland smiled his old smile, for the moment his old self again. "I'll always be his."  
  
Her finger was just about to squeeze the trigger when a voice boomed, "ROSA!"  
  
She turned, inhaling sharply. "LeRue . . . " The woman seemed to only now realize what she was doing, and lowered the gun. "I . . . Oh God, I . . . I didn't . . . "  
  
"What happened?” LeRue asked as he crossed the cabin quickly. “What did he say?"  
  
"Nothing, he didn't . . . he didn't say anything. I just . . . " Rosa dropped the gun, leaning against the wall. "I just can't stand it! I can't stand it!"  
  
LeRue hesitantly took her in his arms, and she sobbed into his shirt. _She doesn't have to tell me what she can't stand. I know it. She loves Ethan. She loves that man, and he's obsessed with this monster.  
  
She's been at the bureau for so long. She's the one that puts things together, that makes sense out of the senseless shit that goes on in this city. But you can't make any sense out of this, and you can't fix it, either. She's a woman, but she's not used to being helpless.  
  
_"Don't tell Ethan."  
  
LeRue looked down at her. "What?"  
  
Rosa drew away, drying her eyes on her wrist. "You can't tell Ethan. Please, I . . . I promised him."  
  
"All right," LeRue agreed. "I promise. I won't tell him anything."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
Leland watched them without a word. For all his coolness, the threat of death had jarred him. He looked at his restraints, disappointed that they could not be undone. The urge to kill was strong again.  
  



	17. Chapter 17

Dorland had himself set up like some kind of technological-age god, standing on a platform surrounded by countless monitors, all displaying various places in the city. Leland was right: they had been watching everything all along.  
  
"You can't do this," Ethan called up to him. "You have no right to control people's lives like this."  
  
"And is that why you've come to kill me? For the city? For the world? Save the piety. You're only here because of what I did to your precious Serial Killer X."  
  
"Yeah, it's about what you did to Leland!" Ethan yelled. "And what you've done to me, and the city, and everyone else pulled into this sick fucking conspiracy of yours! Did you honestly expect me to sit around and let you keep destroying us all one by one?"  
  
"You are the only one we needed to destroy, Thomas," Dorland replied. "Even that worthless lover of yours would never have been worth the effort of watching, had he not been tied to you."  
  
"Yeah? Why me?"  
  
"Because you alone stand in the way of our righteous path."  
  
 _That word Leland's so fond of . . . Does it actually mean something?_  
  
"You alone would hinder the shaping of the world, leave them useless without the skills we have bestowed upon them to survive."  
  
"Survive? Survive what?"  
  
"And for what? For this man?"  
  
The screens flickered. Footage from Ethan's last confrontation filled every monitor. The serial killer he had first met, ruthless and violent, framing him for murder. The burning barn, that dark ugly night when Leland had cut off Ethan's finger, their chase in the house, the fight. Everything Ethan had gone through at the beginning of the end of his life last year flashed before his stunned eyes. The hatred swelled in his chest, so strong he might have murdered Leland if he had him nearby.  
  
"Malcolm Vanhorn brought you into all of this, but you've conformed quite nicely,” Dorland said. “You've lost yourself in him. You love him more than Vanhorn was ever able to."  
  
"I pity the poor bastard sometimes, but I don't love him."  
  
"You love him, or you never would have come here to face death for his sake."  
  
The screens flickered. Ethan was confronted with the truth of their intimacy. Had he really held Leland that closely? Had he kissed him so gently?  
  
 _'It'll be okay . . . I'm here.'  
  
'You don't want to die.'_  
  
Ethan shut his eyes in humiliated anger. _I knew I would regret it, and here I am, regretting it._  
  
When he looked up again, he saw Leland tied down to the table inside the Peninsula, Dorland behind him. His stomach clenched with outrage.  
  
"Haven't you always wanted to see him break? Isn't it pleasing to see the abuser abused?"  
  
 _I thought I wanted to see it._  
  
Leland's screams echoed in his ears. Ethan watched Leland breaking down before his eyes. Was he jealous? Or simply protective? He could no longer tell. He didn't care. The fury was taking hold again.. Dorland was still speaking, but Ethan no longer heard him. He watched in disgusted fixation until he could no longer stand it. He drew his gun and opened fire on the monitors.  
  
"So you will still protect him," Dorland observed.  
  
"I'll protect what's **mine**."  
  
"Hmph."  
  
A group of cultists loomed up out from the shadows. Dorland was wearing that strange helmet that contained the power of the Oro, as they had begun evening out their losses from failed births with technology. The man was already strong, but with it, he became nearly untouchable.  
  
Untouchable to all but Rememdium.  
  
Ethan shattered the helmet after clearing away the other cult members, and had little trouble taking the man on directly afterwards. It didn't matter who it was for or why, he beat the man down until his fists bled. To end it finally, to take their prying eyes off the city, Ethan overloaded the huge monitoring and sound-manipulation system. Everything exploded.  
  
It was over.  
  



	18. Chapter 18

When Leland opened his eyes again, the first thing he noticed was the quiet. There was a calm over the atmosphere that he had never felt before. For a moment, he wondered if he was dead.  
  
"You're awake, huh?"  
  
Ethan appeared beside the bed he was lying in. Leland stirred but was held back. Restraints. Ethan gave him a sympathetic look but did not undo them. The two men shared a long moment of silence.  
  
"Dorland is dead," Ethan finally announced. "The Oro's base in Metro City is demolished."  
  
"And now what, Mr. Thomas?" Leland asked wearily.  
  
"Now it's just us, Leland."  
  
"And you think I'm the delusional one," Leland sighed. "It will never be 'just us', Thomas. Things are only going to get worse, now that they know you've realized your powe-- Mmm!"  
  
Ethan shushed him with a kiss, then gave him another on the forehead.

"Just forget that," he said tiredly. "They aren't here **now**. Let me just hold onto that, okay?"  
  
"Naive as ever, Thomas."  
  
"Can't you . . . " Ethan touched the side of his face. "Can't you just call me 'Ethan'?"  
  
"Why? Are we pretending to be a couple now? Is that your next game?"  
  
"Leland . . . "  
  
"Nothing is over, and even if it were, we don't get a happy ending," Leland said harshly. "My uncle is gone, Dorland is gone; all that means is that I will no longer be playing the victim for you. So, if you were planning to go on playing out your hero fantasies with me, you'd best forget about it."  
  
"Oh, so that's what this is about," Ethan said in amusement. "You're still embarrassed over losing it, aren't you?"  
  
"That's ridiculous!"  
  
"You're blushing."  
  
"How dare you make fun of that."  
  
Ethan sat down on the edge of the bed, running a hand over Leland's head. "Look, I killed that pig for you, Leland. So, what is all this shit? Can't you just say 'thank you'?"  
  
"I'm not grateful to you," Leland scoffed. "You should have let me die."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I'm going to kill you," Leland said, looking up at him with a determined frown. "It's stupid to treat me like a pitiable lover. I broke down once, but I won't again. I'm perfectly fine now."  
  
"No you're not."  
  
Leland's bottom lip turned down, eyes searching the bed. Ethan took his face in his hands, leaning closer. "You're not."  
  
"Your sympathy is going to get you killed."  
  
"Then why warn me against it? Wouldn't that make me an easier target for you?"  
  
"I just can't stand stupidity."  
  
"You just can't stand the idea of being--"  
  
Ethan stopped short, but they both knew the words he was about to spill.  
  
"You can't stand being _cared about_ ," Ethan said. "I know, you grew up mostly alone, so did I. But who cares? We're not two lost orphans, not anymore. We're just two people that kind of . . . in the most fucked up way ever . . . found each other."  
  
"So you bring flowers, and I write letters from the home for the criminally insane?" Leland said cynically.  
  
"So we take what we can get, and maybe you realize it's not so terrible," Ethan told him. "And we just go with it."  
  
"Until we kill each other."  
  
"Until I don't know, Leland!" Ethan exclaimed in exasperation, standing. "I don't _know_ , I can't see the future. Jeez, why are you so damn stubborn?"  
  
"It doesn't even matter," Leland muttered. "They'll kill me here, anyway."  
  
"No, why would they?"  
  
"If you really cared about me at all, you wouldn't keep me tied down and helpless," Leland told him. "You would let me go."  
  
Ethan took his hand in his own, then moved a cuff down his arm, revealing a bandage. "You tried to kill yourself, Leland."  
  
"I don't want to die. But you must want me to, if you're leaving me here."  
  
"You're just sulking, that's all. You want me to let you free to go on killing," Ethan said. He gripped Leland's hand in his own. "I can't let you go. But you will be safe."  
  
"Yeah, it's for my own good, right," Leland scoffed. "Just like my uncle used to say . . . "  
  
Ethan kissed his forehead. "I won't let anything happen to you. I promise."  
  
Leland shook his head. "You can't protect me."  
  
"I **will** protect you."  
  
Leland was going to say something snide or cruel, but stopped.

"I--" Leland licked his lips, stared down at his hands. "I wish I could believe that."  
  
"You don't have to, Leland," Ethan said gently. "I'll just hang onto it, for both of us."  
  
"Why? Why do you want me to live?"  
  
"Because you're mine."  
  
Ethan kissed him.  
  
 _That should be insulting,_ Leland thought. _Why does it feel good to hear it? I want to . . . I want to believe that. Maybe it's because of what Dorland did or the lack of the Oro's influence, but . . . right now, I would like to belong to someone. I would like to think this 'Rememdium' could heal my wounds.  
  
But without those wounds, I wouldn't exist. All I am is the remnants of the scars. I need them, I need them to be strong. Otherwise, I will just fade away. Even now, I'm so weak, if anyone comes, I won't survive it. Right now, he is all I have . . . _  
  
The drugs were starting to make Leland drowsy again. He lay his head back on the pillows, staring up at Ethan wearily. The man went to leave, but he grabbed him by the sleeve.  
  
"I can't find them."  
  
Ethan frowned. "Who?"  
  
"My demons, they . . . they aren't with me."  
  
"Good," Ethan said. "If they show up again, I'll be the one to find them and get rid of them."  
  
"You don't understand," Leland yawned, starting to fade away. "I . . . need . . . them."  
  
He passed out, hand falling from Ethan's sleeve. Ethan smiled sympathetically at him, and gave him one last kiss before walking out.  
  
 _You don't need them, and neither do I. They're gone. We're not going to have to battle through that hell anymore. I'll make sure of it._

_This world will never be_   
_What I expected_   
_And if I don't belong_   
_Who would have guessed it_   
_I will not leave alone_   
_Everything that I own_   
_To make you feel like it's not too late_   
_It's never too late_


	19. Chapter 19

_Even if I say_   
_It'll be alright_   
_Still I hear you say_   
_You want to end your life_

It was the first night in many years that Leland slept peacefully. But he had been right; the demons had not gone.  
  
A silhouette walked through the hospital halls that night, stiff, almost mechanical. A shadow fell on the room as the door opened.

_Now and again we try_   
_To just stay alive_   
_Maybe we'll turn it all around_   
_'Cause it's not too late_   
_It's never too late_

  
The needle slipped into the IV that fed the man sedatives and nourishment. As easily as the figure had come, it vanished back into the halls. Leland's sleep did not end, but was interrupted, and he frowned. The beeps tracking his heart rate blipped at a faster pace.

_No one will ever see_   
_This side reflected_   
_And if there's something wrong_   
_Who would have guessed it_

  
Ethan had stayed at the hospital, and was getting a late coffee with LeRue. They were talking, easy and relaxed, laughing. It felt good to be normal again. It felt good to not have to worry about darkness spreading through you and hurting your friends.  
  
But when the team of doctors rushed by, Ethan's smile fell slowly. Without knowing, he knew. He knew Leland had been right. LeRue was asking him something, but he didn't hear as he rushed after them.

_And I have left alone_   
_Everything that I own_   
_To make you feel like_   
_It's not too late_   
_It's never too late_

  
Leland's heart had stopped by the time Ethan barged into the room. LeRue could see the fear in the man's eyes. It wasn't a sick obsession, like Rosa had said. It wasn't insanity or influence. LeRue knew what it was.  
  
He had to drag Ethan out. They resuscitated Leland and rushed him to surgery. Ethan sat outside, shocked and defeated. "He was right," he kept muttering to himself. "He was right."

_Even if I say_   
_It'll be alright_   
_Still I hear you say_   
_You want to end your life_   
_Now and again we try_   
_To just stay alive_   
_Maybe we'll turn it all around_   
_'Cause it's not too late_   
_It's never too late_

  
"Ethan."  
  
Ethan looked up at LeRue. It felt like they had been sitting there for hours.  
  
"How much does he mean to you?"  
  
"Hell does that mean?" Ethan asked. "You want him to die, too? Is that it? You're trying to see if I'd just forget about him, be all right?"  
  
"No, I . . . " LeRue sat down in the chair beside Ethan. "What am I saying? It's pretty obvious. You love the man. God knows why, but . . . "  
  
"I don't . . . "  
  
"There's no point denying it," LeRue said. "Not now."  
  
Ethan sighed, held his head in his hands.  
  
"And I know something about losing people you love, man," LeRue said quietly. "That's why I . . . I wasn't going to do this, but it just wouldn't-- It wouldn't be right."  
  
"What? What are you trying to say?"  
  
"I think I know who tried to kill him. Tonight."  
  
"What? Who?" Ethan asked, grabbing him by the shirt. "Tell me! Who?"  
  
"Rosa."  
  
"Rosa?" Ethan echoed in disbelief. " _Rosa_? Why would you--"  
  
"She made me promise not to tell you this, and I wasn't going to," LeRue said, standing. "You left us with Leland that day, and we promised you we could be trusted with him. We both did."  
  
"Yeah . . . "  
  
"But it wasn't a promise she could keep."

_The world we knew_   
_Won't come back_   
_The time we've lost_   
_Can't get back_   
_The life we had_   
_Won't be ours again_

  
"And she had that same look in her eyes, like when she was talking to herself in her sleep at the theater," LeRue continued. "Look, I hate this. I hate saying these things about her. Maybe I shouldn't have. But I just . . . Tell me I'm wrong, Thomas. Tell me it isn't that influence. Tell me there's no way it was her."  
  
Ethan stood, eyes hard. "I can't."  
  
"Wait, wait a minute, Thomas," LeRue said desperately. "You said the influence exaggerates tendencies in people. Rosa's not violent or evil by nature. She's not a killer. You know that!"  
  
"Everyone the streets can't be violent by nature," Ethan said. "No way, that's impossible. But what they do have is a reason to be what they become under the influence of the Oro." He shook his head. "No, no, but what would Rosa's reason be?"  
  
"I hate to say it, but . . . that'd be you."  
  
Ethan looked at him in surprise. "Me?"  
  
"She loves you, but you love a serial killer," LeRue said simply. "She's scared for you, and hurt. You chose that man over her, after all she's done for you. I'm not accusing you of anything, but that's got to be painful."  
  
"Rosa doesn't love me. I'm not good enough for Rosa to love me."  
  
"And Leland Vanhorn is good enough for you to love him?" LeRue pointed out. "That stuff doesn't matter. You feel what you feel."  
  
"So it's jealousy? That's it?" Ethan asked. "That's why she wants him dead?"  
  
"No, you're missing the point," sighed LeRue. "It's to _protect_ you."  
  
"I don't need to be protected."  
  
Ethan shut his eyes. _How many times have I heard Leland say that? Christ. The road to hell . . ._  
  
A doctor emerged from the room. Ethan faced him, heart pounding in his chest. "Well?" he asked impatiently.  
  
"The patient will be fine," the doctor said. "The poison ravaged him internally, but there should be no long-term damage. If he weren't still injured and hooked up to the monitors, he wouldn't have been so lucky."  
  
 _Lucky? Bullshit._ _I can't keep him here, tied down, like he said._  
  
"Thanks, doctor."  
  
"Well, you didn't lose him," LeRue said once the doctor had gone. "If you're actually happy about that, you must love his crazy ass."  
  
"I didn't lose him, but I did lose Rosa." Ethan leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "I can't trust her."  
  
"Don't be that way, man."  
  
"At least, not with Leland," Ethan said. "I don't know what I'm going to do."  
  
"Just don't go setting that guy free--"  
  
"No, he can't be trusted with himself, either," Ethan said. "LeRue, I . . . I know it must have been hard to break your promise to Rosa. I can't tell you what it means to me. Thank you."  
  
LeRue shrugged. "I just know what it's like to . . . Well, we've all lost someone important, right?"  
  
"Yeah. Can I ask you for just one more favor?"  
  
"Oh man . . . "  
  
"Don't tell anyone about this conversation," Ethan said. "In fact, I would appreciate it if you acted suspicious of _me._ "  
  
"You? Why?"  
  
"So no one suspects me."  
  
"Suspects you in what? Where are you going?"  
  
They were wheeling Leland out to an observation room. Ethan followed. "I'm not leaving."  
  
LeRue exhaled, shoulders sagging. "Suit yourself."  
  
Ethan gripped Leland's limp hand in his own. _I'm never leaving you again._

_This world will never be_   
_What I expected_   
_And if I don't belong_


	20. Chapter 20

Three days later, the headlines all over Metro City were heralding the shocking escape of Serial Killer X, Leland Vanhorn. Forensics had traced his escape route, one only a criminal mastermind could think of. Ethan was very thorough in covering his tracks. No one would guess Leland had been carried out, still unconscious from the poisoning. No one would ever dream of looking in the apartment of the SCU agent who headed the hunt for the escaped convict. Not even Rosa was suspicious of Ethan . . . _especially_ not Rosa.  
  
After being purposefully disobedient during his 'hunt' for SKX, Ethan had been placed on suspension. This gave him the time to set up cameras all over his apartment, which he could monitor from his phone, and invest in industrial strength restraints and equipment. He felt guilty, having Leland once again tied down, even in his own apartment, but he didn't know any other way to keep the man safe.  
  
"Mmmph . . . Eth . . . Ethan?"  
  
Ethan was checking the IV when Leland's eyes opened.  
  
"Where am I?"  
  
"I'm here."  
  
"Where?"  
  
"Right here." Ethan moved into view and took Leland's hands in his own. “I'm right here.”  
  
“I can't see you.” Leland moved his head, eyes still and blank. "I can't see anything. Are my eyes--"  
  
"Oh, your eyes . . . " Ethan sat on the edge of the bed, holding his hand. "The doctor did say there was a slight chance of blindness, but only temporarily."  
  
"How do you know?" Leland asked, panicked. "I'm fucking blind?"  
  
"Relax," Ethan chuckled. "They said it was impossible for it to be permanent."  
  
"I'm in the hospital? Why am I blind? I was fine."  
  
"Someone tried to kill you. They poisoned your IV."  
  
"I told you--"  
  
"I know, I know," Ethan said. "That's why you aren't in the hospital. You're in my apartment. I made it look like you escaped."  
  
"So I'm tied down to your bed? That's rather kinky."  
  
"Well, at least it takes care of the trust issue."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Now you _have_ to trust me."

_Even if I say_   
_It'll be alright_   
_Still I hear you say_   
_You want to end your life_

  
"Can I?"  
  
"Hm?"  
  
"Can I trust you?"  
  
“Why don't you just find out?"  
  
Ethan kissed him passionately. Leland's panic subsided. Ethan unbuckled the restraints and Leland embraced him. He did not fight or argue. The darkness made him reach out, and for the first time someone was there to meet him. All he had ever been able to count on was hatred and pain. Those things were familiar, natural, whether being dealt or received. But he could not take them anymore, not at this point, when he was so raw from abuse. This warmth was foreign to his body, but he could no longer deny how good it felt.  
  
He would be strong again. He knew that. The demons would come back, and they would all be thrown into chaos again, nice, familiar chaos. But he had to heal first. At least, he had to survive this. So much as he was jealous of it, he knew Ethan's strength was more than enough for both of them.  
  
After all, hadn't he been the one to first inspire it?  
  
Leland was no longer scared or resigned; he was able to lose himself in Ethan's body, to feel him and kiss him without disgust or fear. It was the first time sex had not made him feel dirty or violated. He never really thought it could be like this.  
  
"Angh!"  
  
"Want me to stop?"  
  
"No, I . . . I like it."  
  
"Because it hurts?"  
  
"Because it's you."  
  
 _It makes no sense at all, but I know what he means.  
  
There is no way in hell any of this should be happening, but because it is us, maybe it will. And if not, well, at least we'll always have this connection. He doesn't want to admit it, but it's just us now.  
  
Now?  
  
No. That's the way it's always been.  
_  
  


_Now and again we try_   
_To just stay alive_   
_Maybe we'll turn it all around_   
_'Cause it's not too late_   
_It's never too late_   
_Maybe we'll turn it all around_   
_'Cause it's not too late_   
_It's never too late (It's never too late)_   
_It's not too late_   
_It's never too late_   
  
  
**End**


End file.
